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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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IM^W  ^  S"t  ^ 


ANTONY    BRADE. 


Tb  "Eop. 

IIop^vp/>I  iJifCSr)(rt  <f>€pav0tov  elapot  upi)  ■ 

Taia  Si  Kvaver)  xXoepriv  iaTe^aro  voCriv.     ic.T.A< 

[Here]  smiles  the  purple  spring's  bloom-bearing  time; 
And  swart  earth  does  her  glossy  green  hair  trim ; 
Decks  with  fresh  leaflets  every  bursting  limb. 
Here  drink  the  pure  and  quickening  dew  of  mom 
The  laughing  meads ;  and  the  soft  rose  is  bom. 


The  shipmen,  lithe,  plough  the  wide-foaming  seas, 
Bellying  their  sails  with  frolic  Zephyr's  breeze. 

And,  aye,  the  brisk-tongued  bird-race  plies  its  song ; 
Kingfishers  seaward ;  swallows,  roofs  among. 

Melbacros,  Idyll.     To  Spring, 


Antony   Brade. 


BY 


ROBERT    LOWELL, 

iiUTHOK  OB  "thk  kew  priest  in  conception  bay,"  etc. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS      BROTHERS. 

IS75. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  t>y 

BOBERT    T.    8.    LOWELL, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Libmrian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


caxbridob: 
press  of  johh  wilson  and  soif. 


F5 

23Vf 


For  you  who  recall  the  fluttering  of  school-book  leaves, 
at  desks  now  gone  to  dust,  and  the  waving  of  sunny  hair  in 
the  air  of  long  ago  ;  childhood's  holy  friendship  and  early 
ambitions  that  were  never  lost;  to  whom  the  breezy  hills 
and  mist-loving  vales  and  crackling,  frosty,  winter-walks  of 
boyhood  are  still  clear  cut,  up  in  the  sky  of  thought,  as 
Marathon  and  Plataea,  and  sheeny  with  a  part  of  the  same 
glory  that  wraps  those  earlier  fields  of  history, — for  you  who 
have  been  boys,  or  are  boys,  or  like  boys,  this  book  is  lovingly 
written. 


1125445 


CONTEII^TS. 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.     St.  Bartholomew's    School   and   East- 
ham  1 

n.     Mystery  about  Antony  Brade      ...  11 

III.  Talk  at  the  Bonfire 16 

IV.  Mrs.  Wadham  is  interested 27 

V.     The  Black  Watch 46 

VI.    The  Boy's  own  Account  of  it  ...    .  52 

VII.    Towne's  Plan 64 

VIII.     On  the  Edge  of  it 81 

IX.     The  Doing 84 

X.     The  Next  Morning 97 

XI.    Mr.    Parmenter     attracted     to     the 

Flame 107 

XII.    A  Distinguished   Foreigner,  who,  per- 
haps,   HAS    something    TO    DO   WITH  IT  114 

XIII.  Mr.  Don  follows  it  up  a  little  .     .     .  123 

XIV.  Mr.  Don  has  hold  of  a  Clue  ....  131 
XV.    The  Making  of  a  Language     ....  138 

XVI.    Mr.  Parmenter  stumbles  upon   a    Spe- 
cimen      150 

XVII.    Mr.  Don  and  another  join  Forces    .     .  161 

XVIII.    Trapping,  and  some  After-Trouble.     .  177 


vm 


CONTENTS. 


OHAPTEB  PAQK 

XIX.    Some    Fiohtiko   that    will    disgust 

Bruisers 199 

XX.    What  happened  to  Remsen's  Watch; 

AND   TaRLETON'S   EXPERIENCE  .      .      .  218 

XXI.     The  Caput  meets  Brade 227 

XXII.    The  Rector  op  the  Parish  and  one 

OF  his  People 234 

XXin.     A  Young  Reprobate 240 

XXIV.     A  Breath  of  Fresh  Air 258 

XXV.    Some    Boys    venture    on    the    Fair 

Sea  of  Philology 262 

XXVI.     A  Field-Day  of  the  Trustees  .     .    .  281 
XXVII.    Mr.  Don  calls  upon  Mr.  Farmentbr, 

on  Business 293 

XXVm.     The  Rosicrucians 304 

XXIX.    The  Turkey  found,  but  not  the  Se- 
cret Society 319 

XXX.    Mr.    Parmenter    more    than     ever 

ACTIVE 325 

XXXI.    The  Trustees  meet 332 

XXXII.    Mrs.  Wadham's  Party 342 

XXXIII.  What  the  Count  is  to  Brade  ...  376 

XXXIV.  Benefactors'  Day 383 

XXXV.    The  Match  on  the  Icb 395 

XXXVI.    Our  Story  is  ended 411 

XXXVn.    A  Purpose  for  Life 416 


ANTONY  EEADE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  SCHOOL  AND  EASTHAM, 

Although  our  story  lies  at  least  as  much  among 
grown-up  people  as  among  boys,  yet  we  begin  it  among 
these,  because  our  hero  happens  to  be  one  of  them. 

Saint  Bartholomew's  iSchool  in  Eastham,  or  St. 
Bart's,  as  it  is  called  for  shortness,  or  Bartlemas,  as 
the  boys  call  it  in  kindly  nickname,  stands,  or  ought  to 
stand,  on  high  ground  of  easy  climbing,  surrounded  by 
higher  ground  on  all  the  colder  sides.  Below,  between 
it  and  the  town,  lies  a  pretty  lake,  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  or  a  mile  across,  shored  with  in-and-out  grassy  or 
wooded  slopes,  green  in  summer,  almost  or  quite  to  the 
water's  edge,  on  all  sides  but  the  eastern.  On  that  shore 
is  a  shelving  beach  of  sand  and  gravel.  Near  that  side 
lies  the  highway  going  up  northward,  white  against  the 
high  bank  of  the  lake.  There  is  a  green  and  pretty 
winding  lane  at  the  western  side ;  and  on  the  northern 
bank,  approached  by  an  irregular  path  from  the  school- 
buildings  above,  are  two  or  three  boat-houses,  two  of 
which  are  surmounted  by  flag- staffs. 

The  school  buildings,  which  are  a  good  mass  of  brick, 
make  a  pretty  broad  show,  and  are  already  kindly  taken 

1  A 


ANTONY  DRADE. 


into  fellowship  by  great  Nature,  although  at  first  foreign  ; 
for  her  friendly  grass  has  drawn  up  close  to  their  feet, 
and  She  is  encouraging  woodbine  and  ivy  to  play,  as 
they  do,  gracefully  and  freely  on  the  brick  walls,  while 
awnings  over  windows,  here  and  there,  match,  with 
their  green  or  blue  strij^es,  the  earth  or  sky. 

The  house  is  somewhat  impressive  in  the  daytime 
by  its  size ;  and  in  the  earlier  hours  of  night  glowing 
with  bright  light  through  a  long  row  of  windows  in  the 
lower  story,  and  here  and  there  above. 

What  may  be  called  a  lawn  —  for  it  is  a  good  stretch 
of  green,  though  broken  by  scattered  trees  and  shrubs, 
and  clumps  of  trees  and  shrubs  —  spreads  outwards  and 
downwards  to  the  bank  of  the  lake. 

About  these  school-buildings  of  St.  Bart's  there  is  a 
story,  —  a  story  not  indeed  so  long  as  that  of  St. 
Martin's  Church  in  the  Strand,  or  University  College, 
Oxford,  or  the  Round  Mill  at  Newport  even,  and  yet  a 
story  which  might,  with  pains  enough  taken,  be  worked 
up  into  romance. 

These  ample  buildings  the  local  memory  reports  to 
have  been  first  thrust  up  into  the  air,  boldly  and  ambi- 
tiously, among  the  standing  and  living  things  of  the 
imiverse,  for  a  "hat  manufactory;"  and  in  that  capacity 
to  have  "  made  a  failure  of  it,"  as  the  neighbors  express 
themselves.  They  were  still  standing  up,  emjjty  and 
desolate,  among  the  other  things  of  the  universe,  when 
the  infatuation  about  "The  Midland  Simimer  House" 
went  through  that  part  of  the  country. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  epidemic,  which  rose  an<l 
spread  like  any  fever,  one  or  two  retired  city-men,  and 
three  or  four  brisk  men  still  in  business  in  the  city, 
but  lodging  and  spending  their  spare  time  among  the 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  SCHOOL. 


fields  and  trees,  had  put  m  their  few  thousands  apiece ; 
a  country  merchant  or  two  had  been  moved  to  do  as 
much ;  and  two  or  three  scores  of  saving  farmers  and 
other  country  people  had  put  in  their  hundred,  or  their 
fifty,  or  their  less ;  and  so  altogether  they  had  turned  the 
big  building  into  a  hotel  and  boarding-house.  The  huge 
rooms  had  been  cut  up  with  partitions  into  dining-ball, 
dance-hall,  parlors,  and  chambers ;  a  wing,  two-thirds 
as  long  as  the  main  building,  and  one  story  lower,  had 
been  pushed  back  from  the  western  end,  and  filled,  like 
a  beehive,  with  small  cells,  called  bedrooms,  on  both 
sides  of  a  long,  narrow  passage  on  each  floor ;  verandas 
had  been  run  along  the  front  and  wing;  and  a  consistent 
cupola,  above  every  thing,  caught  the  fresh  breezes  and 
surveyed  the  broad  country. 

"  The  Midland  Summer  House,"  when  finished,  was  a 
joy  to  the  neighborhood,  and  a  hope  and  expectation  to 
the  shrewd  investors,  and  the  no  less  shrewd  holders- 
ofT;  for  it  was  to  bring  society  to  the  city-men's  fami- 
lies, easy  and  profitable  practice  to  the  medical  men,  a 
market  for  the  country-people,  employment  to  all  the 
washerwomen,  chore-women,  masons,  carpenters,  paint- 
ers, and  whom  not  ? 

Besides  all  this,  it  was  to  add  one-half  to  the  worth 
of  every  foot  of  ground  within  five  miles  from  that 
centre,  or,  in  other  words,  within  a  circle  of  ten  miles 
diameter. 

Mr.  Thomas  Parmenter,  of  Eastham,  was  very  ener- 
getic and  public-spirited  about  it.  Mr.  Parmenter,  once 
a  country  merchant,  had  now  for  some  years  had  a 
handsome  place  in  the  city,  where  (without  a  sign)  he 
dealt  in  choice  foreign  fruits  and  flowers,  including, 
somehow,  the  specialties  of  "  Aqua-rose  "  and  "  Meli- 


ANTONY  BRADE. 


trech."  He  had  been  twice  married,  and  twice  a 
widower.  His  experience,  as  we  see,  had  been  large 
and  varied. 

He,  like  the  others,  had  invested  his  money ;  and,  for 
his  own  good  and  theirs,  was  busy  in  all  the  planning 
and  building;  and  then  had  a  chief  voice  in  securing 
one  Mr.  Sharon  Andrews,  a"  bright-colored,  pleasant- 
spoken  man,  who  was  understood  to  have  been  making 
money  in  keeping  "The  Great  Euro])ean  Casino"  at 
the  corner  of  Utopia  and  Back-bay  Streets  in  Boston, 
and  was  willing  to  come  for  a  year  or  two  to  "  set  the 
enterprise  on  its  legs." 

With  this  successful  gentleman,  things  lived  and 
flourished  at  the  Summer  House  through  one  season  of 
free  invitations,  and  of  neighborhood  assessments  of 
milk,  butter,  and  vegetables,  in  which  Mr.  Parmeuter, 
and  some  of  his  rich  city-men,  bore  their  shares. 

During  this  time  its  passages  and  doorways  and 
piazzas  swarmed  with  guests;  the  roads  of  Eastham 
flashed,  and  were  lively  with  carriages  and  saddle- 
horses,  and  scarfs  and  ribbons ;  the  passages  of  the 
house  were  redolent  with  "  Parmenter's  Aqua-rose,"  and 
all  the  tables  bright  with  crystal  vases  of  "  Parmenter's 
Melitrech."  It  had  its  "  hops  "  and  balls,  and  concerts, 
sacred  and  others;  it  had  its  private  theatricals,  and 
almost  its  oratorio,  which  two  members  of  the  Handel 
and  Haydn  Society  nearly  succeeded  in  getting  uj);  it 
had  its  moonlight  serenades,  and  pic-nics,  and  chowders, 
and  clam-bakes,  on  the  lake  and  its  shores,  and  its 
ramblers  and  strollers  in  the  woods.  In  short,  it  had 
all  the  forms  of  elegance  and  intelligence  which  are 
usually  exhibited  by  a  good  many  (not  i)erhaps  first- 
rate)  fashionable  young  men  and  women,  and  a  few 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  SCHOOL. 


"fast"  young  men  and  some  foolish  young  women, 
when  they  are  enjoying  themselves  and  showing  them- 
selves off  in  the  sight  of  rustics.  It  wound  up  the  season 
with  dinners  of  "The  Agricultural  Union,"  of  which 
Dr.  Evans  was  president,  and  of  "  The  Farmers'  Re- 
serves," of  which  Mr.  Waite,  manufacturer  at  Weston, 
was  president.  It  had  paragraphs  in  the  papers.  It  had 
done  something  toward  making  a  name. 

The  second  year  it  advertised  early,  and  opened  a 
little  late,  with  the  launch  of  the  yacht  "Iris"  on  the 
lake,  and  a  reunion  of  "  The  Three  Counties'  Medical 
Association;"  languished  through  three  rainy  weeks; 
and  then  —  Mr.  Farmenter,  having  called  a  meeting  of  all 
the  persons  interested,  and  then  having  furnished  them 
with  a  reasonable  feeding  of  cold  chicken  and  pickles  in 
the  dining-room  of  the  hotel,  addressed  them  all  as 
fellow-investors  with  himself;  proposed  a  plan  by  which 
Mr.  Sharon  Andrews  —  who  had  been  absent  for  a  few 
days  —  should  accept  an  extraordinary  opening  just 
offered  him  in  Chicago,  and  a  committee  of  their  own 
appointing  should  wind  up  the  affiiirs  of  the  Summer 
House,  and  secure  the  buildings  and  proj^erty  to  the 
common  benefit  of  those  concerned.  One  of  the  city- 
men  moved  the  appointnient  of  three  gentlemen  whom 
he  named,  —  a  farmer,  the  merchant  of  the  place,  and 
Mr.  Farmenter;  and,  after  the  going  over  several 
times  of  the  whole  matter,  the  committee  was  ap- 
pointed. Almost  everybody  grumbled,  especially  those 
who  "  had  always  said  so  when  they  first  put  in  their 
money."  Mr.  Farmenter  undertook  to  "  run  the  house  " 
for  the  two  and  a  half  months  remaining,  in  connection 
with  its  clerk;  he  carried  it  through;  lost  only  eleven 
hundred  dollars,  he  said,  where  he  had  expected  to  lose, 


6  ANTONY  D.RADE. 

at  the  least,  thirty-five  hundred;  tlie  buildings  and 
furniture,  after  a  year  or  two,  were  sold  by  auction,  in 
lots  to  suit  purchasers ;  Mr.  Parmenter  had  bought  the 
land  and  buildings,  and  the  bulk  of  the  household  stuff; 
and,  within  a  month  after  that,  Mr.  Parmenter  had  got 
together  a  set  of  gentlemen,  of  different  professions  and 
more  or  less  note,  as  a  Board  of  Trustees  for  a  school. 
Within  three  months  they  had  secured  an  Act  of 
Incorporation  for  St.  Bartholomew's  School,  Eastham. 
On  the  Board  there  were  two  ex-judges,  —  Allen  and 
Pearson,  —  of  one  court  or  other;  one  law  lecturer, 
Petlirick;  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cruden  Baxter,  one  of  the 
editors  of  "The  Supplementary  Cyclopedia  of  the 
Bible,"  now  abroad ;  the  Rev.  Dr.  Farwell,  a  member 
of  several  Committees  and  Boards ;  Dr.  Button,  whose 
name  we  will  spell,  if  we  have  occasion  to  use  it,  with 
two  w's,  to  show  that  the  accent  falls  upon  the  last 
syllable  (Dr.  Buttonn  was  once  accountant  in  a  boot- 
tactory,  and  now  for  many  years  a  i>riest) ;  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Manson,  rector  of  the  little  parish  in  Eastham,  and 
editor  of ''The  Church  Post,"  which  he  |)Ieasantly  called 
a  pillar  of  the  church ;  the  Rev.  Mr.  Merrill,  a  long, 
sober-looking  clergyman,  member  of  half  as  many 
Boards  and  Committees  as  Dr.  Farwell ;  the  enterprising 
Mr.  Thomas  Parmenter;  Mr.  Isaiah  Don,  who,  though 
a  man  of  business,  a  director  in  a  savings  bank,  last 
year  a  compromise  member  of  the  legislature,  was  after 
all  most  notable  for  being  an  admirer  of  Mr.  Parmen- 
ter and  his  success,  and  Mr.  Pcttie,  a  man  with  a  face 
like  one  of  the  lesser  quadiuj)eds,  but  who  had  become 
of  some  account  on  'Change  by  shrewd  management  of 
an  unexpected  legacy.  He  was  the  eleventh  member 
of  the  Board. 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  SCHOOL. 


As  indicating  the  individual  standing  of  the  members 
and  their  importance  in  the  community,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Farwell,  one  of  them,  a  man  of  very  moderate  size,  but 
of  large  manner,  after  studying  the  written  list  for  some 
time,  remarked  to  Mr.  Manson,  a  strong,  hearty,  and 
hale  man,  who  was  a  brotlier  clergyman  and  brother 
trustee, — 

"  Among  these 
Eleven  Trustees 
Are  three  LL.-  and  three  D.D.'s." 

To  this  the  other  added,  — 

"  Two  ?«z-Doctored  parsons,  or  chicka-D.D.'s. 

"  We  must  bring  in  two  more,  —  Mr.  Parmenter  and 
Mr.  Don.  Well,  we  can  bring  them  both  in,  in  some 
such  fashion  as  this,  I  suppose  :  — 

"  And  a  conple  of  men  representing  I  D's." 

»  There's  ten,"  said  Dr.  Farwell.     "  Who's  left  out  ? '' 

Mr.  Manson  looked  at  the  list.  "  Mr.  Pettie,"  said 
he. 

"  Well,"  answered  Dr.  Farwell,  with  a  solemn  jocosity 
of  manner,  "  we  can't  make  poetry  of  him." 

There  was  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's School. 

The  change  in  the  buildings  from  the  Midland  Sum- 
mer House  to  St.  Bart's  School  was  easily  made.  The 
long  rows  of  little  bedrooms  were  thrown  open  to  the 
long  ])assages  between,  and  then  hung  with  curtains 
instead  of  doors;  and  in  this  way  made  as  good  alcoves 
for  a  boys'  dotinitory  as  if  at  first  planned  for  them. 
Laiger  rooms  were  kept  here  and  there  for  tutors,  and 


8  ANTONY  DRADE. 

for  household  purposes ;  some  parlors  became  recitation- 
rooms;  the  dining-room  stayed  much  as  it  was;  the 
ball-room  became  a  school-room  ;  a  handsome  share  of 
the  main  house  was  given  to  family  use  ;  and  the  cupola 
became  an  astronomical  observatory,  to  be  furnished 
when  the  time  should  come.  The  thing  was  done,  and 
well  done ;  and,  what  was  more,  the  buildings  looked 
well,  and  answered  their  purpose. 

Thereafter  the  liveliness  of  boys,  and  the  ])ublic 
and  private  spendings  of  a  large  establishment,  and  the 
success  of  a  great  institution,  were  to  take  the  place  of 
the  fashion  and  show  which  had  so  soon  and  so  utterly 
fleeted  with  the  second  season  of  the  Midland  Summer 
House. 

The  town  of  Eastham,  in  which  St.  Bart's  School 
stands,  and  is  the  chief  thing,  is  as  pretty  as  almost  any 
country  place  with  neat  houses  and  some  fine  trees,  and 
that  which  gives  it  its  greatest  beauty,  —  its  lake. 

As  we  shall  have  many  readers  who  are  very  studious 
and  scholarly  persons,  and  as  some  of  them  have  already 
got  map  in  hand  to  fix  their  memory  of  our  geography, 
and  as  a  lake  is  one  of  the  best  things  in  any  landscape, 
and  people  know  it,  we  must  be  a  little  precise  here 
about  this  great  treasure  of  St.  Bart's  and  Eastham,  and 
show  how  it  comes  that  there  is  a  conflict  of  names  in 
maps  and  in  people's  mouths. 

Now,  all  learned  readers  are,  of  course,  aware  of  the 
way  in  which  the  human  race  always  makes  its  additions 
to  the  stock  of  names  bestowed  by  Adam.  In  all  essen- 
tial respects  that  way  was  followed  by  those  members 
of  the  race  who  took  upon  them  the  naming  of  this 
lake  at  the  seventeenth  meeting  of  "The  St.  Bart's 
Boat  Club." 


EASTHAM.  9 


Two  classical  factions  in  the  school  laid  claim  to  the 
privilege  of  giving  it  a  Greek  and  a  Roman  name  re- 
spectively :  the  one,  on  the  ground  that  the  Greeks  were 
the  finest  men  that  ever  lived,  and  the  Greek  language 
was  the  finest  language  that  ever  existed,  the  Caput 
said  so;  the  other,  because  it  was  a  self-evident  propo- 
sition that  the  Romans  had  whipped  the  Greeks.  At 
length  it  was  reluctantly  arranged  between  the  leaders 
—  Gaston,  then  in  the  third  form,  and  Burgess,  in  the 
fourth,  —  and  accepted  with  acclamations  by  the  multi- 
tude on  both  sides,  who  were  heartily  tired  of  the  dis- 
cussion, that  the  water  should  bear  a  "Grasco-Roman" 
name,  by  the  combination  of  the  two  proposed,  which 
were  "  Copais,"  from  a  lake  in  Boeotia,  the  largest  that 
the  Phil-Hellenes  could  find  in  Greece,  and  "  Trasy- 
menus,"  from  a  pond  in  Etruria.  "  Copais-Trasymene  " 
it  was  to  be  for  ever  called  ;  Gaston,  the  Hellene,  having 
secured  that  ending,  which  he  said  was  musical  and 
poetical;  and  a  committee,  consisting  of  the  aforesaid 
leaders,  was  appointed  to  convey  the  results  of  this 
important  deliberation  to  the  map-makers  and  writers 
of  gazetteers  throughout  the  land,  and  throughout  the 
world. 

The  committee,  having  divided  the  labor  between 
them,  sent  carefully  written,  and  of  course  carefully 
w/)rded,  notes  in  abundance  to  the  Messrs.  Thompson 
and  Mr.  Sharpe,  and  to  Mr.  Lock,  and  to  Mr.  Lcdwaite, 
and  to  all  the  rest  of  the  map  and  atlas  men,  and  in  the 
end  achieved  this  success :  one  of  those  publishers  got 
it  printed  "Eastham  P.,"  and  underneath,  in  parenthesis, 
("L.  C.  T.");  three  of  them  returned  answer  that 
"they  would  attend  to  it  when  they  made  new  plates" 
(which  Gaston,  who  was  a  learned  fellow,  said  was  put- 
1* 


10  ANTONY  BRADE. 


ting  off  to  the  Greek  Kalends) ;  one  got  it  down  aa 
"  Copious  P.,"  and  in  explanation  wrote  that  ho 
"thought  the  rest  was  only  boys'  fooling." 

A  party  in  the  school  strongly  set  about  nicknaming 
it  "Cop;"  another  tried  to  call  it  "Trasy;"  and  the 
school  settled  down  upon  "  Lake  Thrash,"  and  there  it 
is  this  day  with  that  name  belonging  to  it;  and  the 
boys  of  St.  Bart's  are  resolutely  determined  never  to 
buy  map  or  atlas  made  by  any  one  of  those  men. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MYSTERY  ABOUT  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Young  Antony  Brade  had  come  to  St.  Bart's  only 
that  fall,  and,  as  has  been  seen,  the  boys  soon  found,  or 
fancied  a  mystery  about  him.  It  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult, perhaps,  to  trace  the  prevailing  opinion  to  any  de- 
finite source  ;  but  it  had  spread  through  the  school,  and 
had  stayed  there,  more  or  less  strong  and  active,  ac- 
cording as  it  was  fed,  more  or  less  often,  from  without 
and  within,  by  fresh  supplies  of  conjecture.  He  was 
generally  thought  to  belong  to  some  very  important 
family  abroad ;  he  either  might  be  the  heir-apparent  of 
royalty,  for  some  reason  sent  off  and  concealed  a  great 
way  from  home,  or  he  might  be  a  son  of  some  family 
lower  than  royalty,  who,  for  whatever  reason  (as  above), 
had  been  sent  away  to  be  educated  in  this  country; 
most  likely  because  this  country  was  the  greatest  in  the 
world ;  and  sent  to  the  Rector  of  St.  Bart's  because  "  the 
Caput"  was  one  of  the  most  illustrious  scholars  and 
teachers  in  the  world.  It  was  not  settled  in  this  com- 
munity whether  the  Rector  was  in  the  secret  of  Antony's 
origin,  or  partly  in  the  secret,  or  not  at  all  in  the  secret ; 
but  it  was  a  thing  of  course  to  the  boys  that  the  lad's 
guardian  in  the  city  knew  nothing  further  than  that  tho 
boy  was  to  be  watched  over  carefully,  and  that  there 
was  plenty  of  money  appropriated  to  his  bringing-up. 


12  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Outside  the  scliool,  among  tlie  families  that  called 
theinselves  "society"  in  Easthain.  an  opinion  of  a  some- 
what definite  character  had  found  a  place,  —  that  young 
Brade  was  a  Russian  of  high  extraction  and  very  great 
expectations. 

This  started  from  some  unknown  source ;  but  gained 
its  chief  circulation  from  the  lively  interest  taken  in  it 
for  several  days  together  by  Mr.  Greenwood,  who  talked 
with  as  many  people,  and  said  as  many  things,  as  any- 
body in  Eastham.  He  had  got  most  of  his  education  at 
Harvard,  and  a  degree  in  law  from  Michigan,  and  was 
now  occupied,  as  it  was  understood,  with  "  railroad 
business,"  which  allowed  of  his  living  quietly  here,  and 
being  one  of  the  liveliest,  if  not  most  useful,  members 
of  Eastham  society,-  and  of  his  having  all  the  daytime 
and  evening  to  himself,  and  working  only  at  such  con- 
venient times  as  would  not  interfere  with  his  own 
pleasure,  or  that  of  others. 

Mr.  Greenwood  had  repeatedly  discussed  this  subject 
with  much  interest,  never  absolutely  pronouncing  for  or 
against  the  opinion  ;  but,  as  he  said,  "A  story,  starting 
from  an  unknown  source  in  this  way,  and  which  cannot 
be  referred  to  any  author,  is  precisely  the  material  of 
all  early  history  in  every  country,  —  in  Greece,  in 
Persia,  in  Rome,  in  Germany,  in  Scandinavia,  in  Eng- 
land, in  Peru,  —  and  nobody  can  remember  how  many 
other  countries." 

This  consideration  weighed  strongly  with  many  in- 
telligent persons. 

At  St.  Bart's,  in  spite  of  the  greatness  of  this  mystery, 
or  because  of  the  mysteriousness  of  Antony's  greatness, 
the  boys  took  him  among  them  pretty  quietly,  much  like 
any  other  boy ;  yet  there  had  been  not  a  few  silent  on- 


Mrs  TEE  Y  ABOUT  HIM.  13 

lookers,  when  his  trunk  was  unpacked,  who  expected  to 
see  a  crown  roll  out,  or  a  purple  robe  unfolded,  or  some 
strange  implement  or  other  fall  to  the  floor.  All  these 
were  disappointed ;  for  young  Brade's  clothes  (though 
of  better  quality  than  usual  perhaps)  were  much  like 
the  clothes  of  other  young  boys, —  so  many  jackets  and 
trousers,  so  many  shirts,  so  many  pairs  of  socks,  so  many 
drawers,  so  many  flannel  waistcoats.  To  be  sure,  a  crown 
stamped  in  gilding  was  indeed  spied  upon  his  prayer- 
book  ;  but,  as  it  surmounted  a  stamped  cross,  almost 
every  one  agreed  that  it  marked  no  definite  distinction 
between  Antony  Brade  and  other  Christians,  although 
one  —  Will  Hirsett  —  held  out  as  long  as  he  could  that 
there  was  "just  a  little  mite  of  difierence  —  he  could 
see  it  well  enough,  though  he  could  not  point  it  out  — 
between  that  crown  and  others." 

When  the  Russian  theory  made  its  way  within  the 
school  limits,  the  boys  were  not  long  in  applying  their 
quick  wit  and  broad  intelligence  to  the  investigation  in 
the  new  direction.  Hutchins,  or  Towne,  or  some  one, 
started  the  thought  of  putting  in  Brade's  way  a  thing 
which  was  especially  national,  and  so  Avould  be  a  touch- 
stone that  Avould  bring  the  secret  out  at  once.  Such  a 
thing  exactly,  the  boys  thought,  was  the  famous  "  Russian 
Imperial  Kezan  Soap  "  of  Mr.  Diogenes  Smith,  Phanna- 
copeist.  Half  a  dozen  cakes  of  this  "  inimitable  article  " 
they  procured,  through  Mr.  Parmenter  going  to  the  city, 
at  wholesale  price ;  and  one  or  more  of  these,  in  flaming 
labels,  they  put  in  the  supposed  young  Russian's  way, 
but  all  without  appreciable  result. 

Boys  are  not  slow  or  scrupulous,  within  certain  limits, 
short  of  what  seems  to  them  unkind  or  rude,  about 
seeking  to  make  their  fellows  satisfy  curiosity  ;  and  bo 


14  AMVNy  DUADE. 

the  mysterious  new-comer  had,  from  time  to  time,  been 
questioned,  but  as  he  had,  the  first  time  the  subject  of 
his  family  was  directly  inquired  into,  galloped  off  with 
a  laugh,  and  said,  "Oh,  yes!  I'm  a  very  great  man,  of 
course ; "  and  the  next  time  had  told  his  curious  young 
friends  that  he  had  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  was 
embarrassed  and  pained  whenever  it  was  approached, — 
the  result  was  supposed  to  have  confirmed  the  mysteri- 
ousness  of  his  origin ;  and  if  the  curiosity  was  not  so 
sharp  after  a  little  while  as  at  the  outset,  the  only  reason 
probably  was  that  curiosity  will,  like  other  things,  lose 
its  edge  and  become  dull  when  tried  upon  something 
too  hard  for  it.  That  he  was  an  excellent  scholar,  and 
as  willing  to  work  as  he  was  quick  at  learning,  no  one 
could  help  seeing,  and  no  one  could  deny  that  he  was  a 
very  kind-hearted,  obliging  young  fellow.  So  he  was 
a  leading  scholar  in  the  Third  Form,  though  one  of  the 
youngest  boys  in  it,  and  bade  fair  to  be  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  school,  as  time  went  on. 

Several  things  which  bore  ujion  the  question,  the  boys 
had  observed  about  him.  No  parent  or  other  relation 
had  visited  him  at  the  school ;  his  letters  at  first  had 
come  addressed  by  his  guai'dian  on  the  outside,  although 
more  than  one  boy  was  sure  of  having  seen  a  lady's 
delicate  writing  enclosed,  which,  from  Antony's  eager- 
ness to  read  it,  and  tenderness  after  reading  it,  was  con- 
cluded to  be  his  mother's.  Latterly  —  some  said,  since 
this  woman  in  black  came  —  he  had  received  no  letters 
and  wrote  none ;  and  it  was  observed  that,  when  others 
were  writing  or  reading  letters,  he  generally  kept  away. 
This  at  least  was  the  rumor  among  the  younger  boys 
with  whom  he  most  associated. 

Now,  however  convenient  this  might  be  to  somebody 


MYSTERY  ABOUT  HIM.  15 


(perhaps  his  father  and  mother,  who  might  be  pretend- 
ing to  be  dead),  or  whatever  purpose  it  might  answer, 
yet  practically  it  deprived  the  young  fellow  of  a  home, 
or  made  him  homeless.  All  this  had  been  often  enough 
discussed,  and  public  opinion  at  St.  Bart's  held  itself  in 
suspense. 

This  last  circumstance  —  the  loneliness  of  young  An- 
tony, in  spite  of  his  supposed  lofty  extraction  —  occa- 
sioned a  pretty  general  feeling  of  compassion  for  him, 
until  it  was  found  that  he  needed  nothing  of  that  sort ; 
and  then,  as  he  was  very  likable  in  himself,  all  the  boys 
of  the  school  held  him  in  more  or  less  of  tender  regard, 
as  no  other  boy  at  the  time  was  held.  He  was  nick- 
named sometimes  "King,"  sometimes  "Duke,"  some- 
times "Royalty,"  sometimes  "Your  Highness;"  but 
boys'  nicknames  are  never  meant  to  hurt  each  other, 
and  are  given  and  taken  with  equal  indifference,  and  in 
this  case  Antony  answered  to  any  of  these  names  as 
readily  and  as  gravely  as  he  would  have  answ^  ered  to 
the  name  of  his  family,  or  to  that  given  him  in  baptism. 


CHAPTER  III. 
TALK  AT   THE  BONFIRE. 

The  time  at  which  our  story  begins  was  the  early 
October,  and  the  day  was  going  down  cloudless.  If  any 
good  eyes  were  scanning  the  heavens,  and  had  known 
where  to  look,  they  might  perhaps  have  seen  a  faint 
smoke  rising  from  somewhere  between  the  school  build- 
ings and  the  horizon.  The  observer,  then,  if  he  had 
gone  till  he  came  to  it,  would  have  found  a  group 
of  boys  gathered  about  a  fire,  and  in  all  sorts  of  atti- 
tudes,—  lying,  sitting,  leaning,  standing,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  silent,  as  we  are  apt  to  be  (even  boys)  in 
declining  day,  and  about  a  dying  fire.  A  man  in  plain 
working  clothes,  whom  they  addressed  as  "  Mr.  Stout," 
had  just  passed  by,  stopping  to  look  at  the  state^  of 
things,  and  taking,  unmoved,  while  he  stopped,  a  scat- 
tering volley  of  teasings  for  leave  to  break  up  all  sorts 
of  things  for  fuel. 

Of  course  the  little  party  had  had  its  subjects  of  con- 
versation before  this  time,  and  just  now  only  one  —  a 
curly-headed,  black-eyed  young  fellow  —  is  speaking, 
leaning  on  his  elbow,  with  his  chin  in  his  hand. 

"That's  her  goin'  along  West  Road,  now"  — 

"  Where,  Ilutchins  ?  Where  ?  "  asked  several  voices, 
as  most  of  the  company  turned  and  looked.  He  went 
on:  — 


TALK  AT  THE  B0NFIRE.  17 

"  In  black  clo'es :  she  brings  that  swell  girl  with  her  to 
church,  that  never  looks  at  any  of  the  fellahs.  I  s'poso 
her  mother  tells  her  not  to.  They  ain't  what  you  may 
call  exactly  ladies.  Some  o'  the  fellahs  were  with  Brade 
t'other  day  when  he  met  her,  and  she  only  jest  looked 
sideways  at  him  (I  don'  know  whether  she  did  look  at 
him),  and  he  turned  all  Qver  first  red,  and  then  as  pale 
as  a  ghost.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  was  a  watch  over 
him.  They  do  have  such  things,  —  I've  read  of  'em, — ■ 
'  dianas '  they  call  'em,  —  to  watch  over  girls,  and  see 
that  they  don't  get  married,  in  Spain  and  Italy,  and  all 
those  places.  I  suppose  Peters  can  tell  us  how  it  used 
to  be  in  those  times  of  his  knights  and  maidens  and 
things  he's  so  proud  of" 

A  fair-haired,  large-eyed,  thoughtful-looking  boy,  on 
whom  the  flame  into  which  he  had  been  gazing  shone 
brightly,  at  the  moment,  looked  up  at  this  appeal,  but 
seemed  not  to  think  it  worth  while  to  answer,  although 
at  first  his  lips  parted,  and  a  voice  seemed  about  to 
come  forth. 

Hutchins's  story  had  gone  on  swimmingly  so  far,  and 
his  conjectures  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  equally 
successful,  if  one  of  the  company  —  a  thin,  straight- 
nosed,  nervous-looking  fellow  —  had  not  spied  here  a 
weak  spot. 

" Diana  was  a  goddess.  They  don't  call  'em  '■dianas^ 
I  know.  I  forget  what  they  do  call  'em  ;  but  I  know  it 
ain't  that."  But  here  the  rest  of  the  company,  who  had 
tolerated  the  intrusion  so  long  as  they  did  not  know 
what  efiect  it  was  to  have  upon  the  substance  of  Hut- 
chins's story,  now  finding  that  the  objection  only  touched 
a  very  immaterial  point  in  it,  cried  out  to  him  to  go  on, 
and  never  mind  about  the  goddess  Diana.     Indeed,  one 


18  ANTONY  DRADE. 

small  fellow,  who  seemed  to  have  studied  to  some  pur- 
pose, supported  Hutchins,  by  saying  that  "  the  goddess 
Diana  did  keep  girls  from  getting  married  as  much  as 
she  could." 

"  There,  Remsen !  Meadows  knows,"  said  another, 
a  big  and  rather  loutish  fellow,  whose  hat,  turned  inside 
out,  sat  on  the  back  of  his  head.  "  Hooray  for  Third 
Form  !     Hooray  for  the  Great  Middle  Class  ! " 

Then,  as  the  young  mythologist  was  about  to  follow 
up  his  success  (as  even  grown-up  human  nature  will 
sometimes  do)  with  communications  of  learning  at 
greater  length,  the  new  speaker  set  himself  against  any 
indulgence  of  this  sort. 

"  That'll  do,  Meadows,"  he  said :  "  you  ain't  reciting 
now  ;"  and  the  young  scholar,  discomfited,  resorted  to 
the  feeding  of  the  fire. 

Hutchins,  however,  came  to  the  rescue  of  his  learned 
supporter  : 

"Yes,  Meadows  has  done  very  well.  Towne,  you 
may  go  on  where  Meadows  left  oft'." 

And  a  laugh  went  up  ag:\inst  Towne,  who  said, — 

"  Oh,  I  don't  pretend  to  know  any  thing." 

Hutchins,  now  re-enforced  by  .Meadows's  classical  con- 
tribution, restored  himself  again  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
and  to  his  leadership,  by  saying,  — 

"  I  knoo  she  did  something  o'  the  sort,"  but  then 
seenied  at  a  loss  where  to  begin  again. 

One  of  the  comi)any  —  a  pretty  large  little  fellow  — 
set  him  going  once  more. 

"But  that  ain't  boys.  Because  they  have  'em  for 
girls,  that  don't  show  that  they  have  'em  for  boys." 

"  Hooray  for  Villicks ! "  said  Towne,  at  the  e.vpiration 
of  this  speech. 


TALK  AT  THE   BONFIRE.  19 

Now  Hutchins  recovered  the  full  swing  of  his  argu- 
ment. 

"  Why  shouldnH  they  have  'em  for  boys  jest  as  well 
as  for  girls?  Can't  a  woman  watch,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?     '  The  Black  Watch '  I  call  her." 

"  The  Black  Watch  was  an  English  regiment,"  said 
Towne,  who  seemed  to  have  read  something,  and  to 
have  information  of  some  sort. 

"  Don't  I  know  that  ? "  retorted  the  chief  speaker. 
"  Haven't  I  got  the  book  ?  But  if  she's  black,  and  if 
she  watches,  ain't  she  a  black  watch  ?  " 

Having  thus  settled  Towne,  he  took  up  his  interrupted 
story  about  Brade. 

"  Well,  after  that  he  turned  and  looked  after  her  ever 
so  many  times,  and  began  to  cry,  too." 

This  story  seemed  to  have  gained  and  grown  in  its 
travels,  not  otherwise  than  as  men's  stories  generally 
gain  ;  for  the  same  boy  who  had  taken  exception  to 
the  name  "  diana "  now  undertook  to  set  Hutchins 
right  in  other  points. 

"  Why,  I  was  there,  and  he  didn't  keep  turning 
round,  and  he  didn't  cry.  He  only  looked  queer-like. 
Perhaps  it  wa'n't  at  her  at  all,  —  bashful," 

"  There ! "  said  Hutchins  again,  "  I  leave  it  to  any- 
body if  Rerasen  ain't  backing  up  all  I  said.  I  said  she 
was  most  likely  watching  him;  and  Remsen  says  he 
was  frightened  as  soon  as  he  saw  her.  Where's  the 
difference?  I  shouldn't  wonder  but* what  she'd  had 
the  charge  of  him  before  he  came  here.  I  shouldn't 
think  he'd  had  much  schooling." 

"  That's  a  likely  story  ! "  said  Remsen.  "  He  must  be 
a  very  smart  fellow,  indeed,  if  he  hasn't  had  much 
schooling,  to  get  on  the  way  he's  got  on.     An'  I  don't 


20  ANTONY  BRADE. 


say  he  was  frightened, — he  was  queer-like,  jest  for  a 
little ;  but  he  laughed  and  talked  and  played  like  any 
pei"son  else  after  that." 

Tom  Hutchins  had  no  thought  of  giving  in.  Feeding 
the  bonfire  with  such  sticks  and  bits  of  combustible 
material  as  were  at  hand,  he  answered, — 

"  He  signed  his  name  in  the  big  book,  there,  with  a 
kind  of  a  tail  to  it,  just  like  ay,  jes  's  if  he  was  going  to 
wi-ite  'Brady,'  and  then  he  made  an  e  of  it.  Burgeon 
told  me,  —  he  comes  next  to  him.  So  he  couldn't  write 
liis  own  name  very  good,  if  that's  tlie  way.  He's  a 
pretty  educated  man  that  can't  write  his  own  name 
without  blundering." 

"  Much  you  know  1 "  said  the  same  thin,  light-colored, 
nervous  fellow,  who  looked  a  little  younger  than  the 
other.  He  was  still  standing  opposite,  as  if  waiting  his 
chance.  "  He  writes  enough  sight  better'n  you,  Tom 
Hutchins,  any  day.  He  writes  better'n  any  fellow  in 
the  school." 

"  Don't  be  personal ! "  said  the  loutish  young  fel- 
low before-mentioned,  and  whom  Hutchins  had  called 
"Towne." 

Here  several  boys,  —  mostly  pretty  small,  —  as  silent 
as  Indians  before,  broke  in,  — 

«  That's  a  likely  story !  " 

"  A  fresh  chap  like  that !  " 

"  Better  than  Lawrence  ?  " 

"Better  than  Eamson?" 

«  Bettor  than  3Iason  ?  " 

All  which  supplementary  helps  were  gathered  by 
Tom  Hutchins  into  one  final  and  conclusive  argument, — - 

"You  tell  that  to  your  grand-aunt's  granny.  Kick 
Remsen." 


TALK  AT  THE  BONFIRE.  21 

It  was  evident  from  the  number  and  eagerness  of  the 
interrupters  that  the  point  interested  a  good  many. 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to  say  "  —  began  the  interrupted 
speaker,  rather  confused,  as  if  his  explanation  was  not 
quite  ready. 

"You  want  to  make  out  that  he's  goin'  to  take  the 
shine  off  Gaston,"  said  Tom  Hutchins,  quietly,  as  an 
elder,  to  Remsen,  not  heeding  his  attempt  to  right 
himself  with  the  company.  "  Now,  I  tell  you  it  won't 
be  one,  nor  two,  nor  three  Brades  that'll  do  that,  if  he 
does  belong  to  Third  Form,  an'  a  big  old  Dutch  family 
as  long  as  your  arm." 

The  incongruity  of  this  descriptive  phrase  of  Hutchins 
seemed  not  to  strike  any  of  the  boys ;  for  with  the 
young  race  fancy  adjusts  itself  more  easily,  and  is  less 
hampered  by  taste,  than  in  grown-up  people ;  and  Rem- 
sen accordingly  took  no  advantage  of  it. 

"  Who  said  he  was  a  big  Dutch  family  ? "  said  he. 
"He  ain't  Dutch  at  all,  but  some  sort  of  a  nobleman,  or 
something  that  nobody  knows  any  thing  about." 

"  That's  the  way  with  a  good  many  o'  those  kind  o' 
fellahs,  —  those  noblemans  and  counts  and  kings,  I 
guess,"  said  Hutchins.  "Nobody  knows  any  thing 
about  'era;  and  the  first  thing  you  hear  one  of  'em's 
got  cotched  in  the  paper,  an'  they  find  out  he  wasn't 
any  king  and  nobleman  and  such  stuff,  but  a  great, 
long-tailed  Irishman." 

Hutchins  had  resented  the  compnrison  of  the  new- 
comer Brade  with  Gaston.  He  was  not  the  only  one  to 
rate  Gaston's  scholarship  highly. 

"  I  believe  that  fellow  Gaston  could  pretty  nearly  enter 
college  now,"  said  a  boy,  who  had  a  large  mouth,  easily 
worked,  and  which  gave  him  a  look  of  drollery  in  saying 
a  very  common  thing. 


22  ANTONY  DRADE. 


"  I  guess  he  could  enter  tliat '  Ulterior  College '  you're 
always  talking  about,  Blake,"  said  Hulchins.  "  What 
do  they  ask  there  for  admission  ?  " 

"  When  a  fellow  conies,"  said  Blake,  "  they  ask  him 
whether  he's  made  up  his  mind  that  he  really  wants  a 
degree,  so  that  they  can  be  sure  he'll  take  it  when  they 
give  it  to  him.  That's  their  examination.  Then  they 
make  hhn  give  bonds  that  he'll  pay  'em  five  dollars  lor 
his  degree  when  he  gets  it." 

The  boys  laughed  at  Blake's  way  of  saying  this. 

"But  what  do  they  do  all  the  four  years  waiting  till 
it's  time  to  take  their  degree  ?  "  asked  Towne.  "  I  guess 
that's  the  college  for  me." 

"Well,"  said  Blake,  "they  take  it  as  comfortably  as 
they  can.  Most  o'  their  real  work  is  writing  petitions. 
If  it's  a  fine  day,  they  send  up  a  petition  to  the  President, 

—  he's  an  old  man,  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  old  for  all 
I  know,  —  and  they  tell  him  they  think  they  should 
enjoy  a  walk  for  their  health ;  and  the  old  gentleman 
says   '  walking's  very  saluberous,'  or  some  such  woi"d, 

—  he's  awful  good-natured,  —  *  and  he'll  go  with'eni;' 
and  so  they  send  him  back  word  '  they're  afraid  they'll 
walk  too  fast  for  him,'  and  he  lets  'em  go  without  him." 

"When  'tain't  a  fine  day?"  asked  Hutchins;  and 
added,  "  How  do  you  spell  that  college?" 

"Ulterior;"  said  Blake.  "I  don't  know  how  they 
spell  it.  When  'tain't  a  fine  day,  they  tell  him  the  light 
hurts  their  eyes.  —  Then  he  takes  oft'  a  few  days  at  the 
beginning  of  a  term,  because  they've  just  come,  and  a 
few  days  at  the  end  of  a  term,  because  they're  just 
going,  and  so"  — 

"Look  here,  old  Ultimatum,"  said  Ilutchins,  "do  they 
use  any  books  at  that  college  ?  " 


TALK  AT  THE  BONFIRE.  23 

"  They  say  they  do,"  said  Blake ;  "but  they  give  'em 
three  or  four  days  to  look  over  a  book  before  they  go 
into  it,  and  express  their  sentiments." 

"That's  my  college!"  said  Towne.  "They'll  hear 
of  me  there  some  o'  these  days." 

"  It's  the  only  place  you  ever  will  be  heard  of,  I 
guess,"  said  Blake. 

If  our  readers,  further  on  in  life,  on  the  upper  side  of 
that  easy  slope  which  leads  from  college  or  young  ladies' 
school  straight  up  to  the  heights  of  fame  and  fashion 
and  fortune,  and  all  that,  object  to  the  language  of  our 
very  young  friends,  that  it  is  not  elegant  enough  or 
grammatical  enough  for  the  members  of  a  great  school 
of  the  first  class,  let  us  remind  them  that  most  boys 
disencumber  themselves  as  readily  of  the  hindrances  of 
grammar  and  spelling-book,  when  they  can,  as  of  those 
of  dress;  and  that  even  "lady  teachers,"  sharp  and 
sudden  as  they  may  be  in  rebuking  mistakes,  and 
thorough  in  exacting  spelling  and  parsing  and  syntax 
and  jjrosody  in  their  classes,  fall  back  easily  from  art  to 
second  nature  when  out  of  recitation.  For  boys,  too, 
beside  the  attraction  that  other  people  find,  common 
old  words  and  queer  words  have  a  little  interest  and 
adventure,  as  well  as  homeliness,  about  them.  These 
boys  will  come  to  good  English  by  and  by. 

The  conversation  (like  most  conversations  of  boys 
round  a  bonfire,  at  any  rate)  was  rather  rambling;  but, 
as  nobody  was  in  a  hurry,  so  there  Avere  some  who 
kept  hold  of  the  thread  of  the  main  subject.  As  soon 
as  the  laugh  settled  down,  Remsen  began  treating  all 
that  had  been  said  for  some  time  back  as  altogether  a 
mere  side-talk,  and  going  back,  — 

"  I  don't  say  but  what  there  are  impostors ;  but  Brade 


24  ANTONY  BRADE. 


ain't  one  of  'cm.  Why,  if  you  just  barely  look  at  him, 
you  can  see  he's  a  gentleman.  He  ain't  a  conmion 
person.  A  common,  vulgar  man  never  has  a  handsome 
skin,  —  soft,  that  way,  like  Antony  Bradc's  got;  and  he 
don't  have  handsome  hair  and  handsome  eyes,  that 
way." 

The  late  interrupters  allowed  all  these  points  to  go 
unchallenged  ;  and  even  Hutchins  seemed  not  disposed 
to  argue  them,     lie  took  another  ground  now  :  — 

"All  boys  are  gentlemen,  ain't  they  ?"  he  asked  ;  but,  as 
objections  were  beginning  of  a  sudden  to  rise  from  every 
side,  he  changed  the  form  of  his  expression,  and  limited 
its  generalization :  "  All  our  fellahs,  I  mean,  of  course. 
What  do  you  say,  Wilkins?"  he  said,  aj)pcaling  to  the 
largish  small  boy,  who  was  ready  and  waiting  to  speak. 

Here  many  hands  poked  the  pieces  of  wood  and 
brands  together,  and  several  mouths  puffed  up  flames. 

"  To  be  sure,  all  Bartlemas  fellows  are  gentlemen,"  said 
the  boy  who  had  been  called  upon,  and  whose  features 
and  complexion  perhaps  imperfectly  satisfied  Kemsen's 
requirements ;  for  he  had  a  smooth  skin  and  soft  hair,  if 
not  the  very  expressive  eyes  which  made  part  of  Kem- 
sen's catalogue  of  gentlemanly  qualities.  "  Every  rich 
man's  son's  a  gentleman,  ain't  he  ?  "  he  asked,  a  little 
doubtfully ;  for,  in  truth,  the  question  was  a  deep-going 
one,  and  these  boys  were  groping  among  the  elements 
of  things. 

"  Not  without  you  give  him  an  education,  an'  maJcc  a 
gentleman  of  him,"  said  Tom  Hutchins ;  "  and  not  ahvays 
then." 

Remsen  was  inclined  to  go  further  than  this :  — 

"1  know  they  used  to  say  that  anybody  couldn't  be 
a  gentleman  if  his  father  and  grandfather  wasn't  one 
too." 


TALK  AT  TEE  BONFIRE.  25 

"  And  the  boy  himself,  three  (Arithmetic,  ain't  it  ?)  " 
said  Tom  Hutchins.  "  But  look  here !  "  he  added,  as  a 
still  brighter  play  upon  Remsen's  words  occurred  to 
him :  "  you  say  the  father  and  grandfather  Avere  one 
gentleman,  —  that  makes  each  of 'em  a  half-gentleman, 
don't  it  ?  Remsen's  an  old  Dutchman.  You  go  back 
to  Adam's  flood,  1  guess,  with  your  family,  don't  you? 
.Rem,  Shem,  and  Jacob, — the  three  patri-arks,  the  fellows 
that  made  the  Ark,  —  Rem's  son,  you  see :  that's  where 
Remsen  came  from." 

Our  smaller  scholar,  of  antiquity,  who  lias  been  called 
Meadows,  undertook  to  correct  Hutchins's  loose  and 
latitudinarian  quotation. 

"It  wasn't  'Rem,  Shem,  and  Jacob,'  you  old  Hut- 
chins,"  lie  objected. 

Hutchins  laughed  with  the  most  absolute  confidence, 
and  answered  the  objector  as  if  he  had  him  safely  in 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  to  be  crushed  or  let  go. 

"  Why  wa'n't  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Ain't  his  name  Rera- 
son  to  this  day  ?  And  after  he'd  been  so  long  in  the 
flood,  didn't  his  family  settle  in  Holland,  where  it's 
always  been  half  under  water?" 

While  the  conversation  was  beginning  to  lag  in  this 
way,  several  members  of  the  company  got  upon  their 
feet,  as  if  to  disperse,  the  chief  subject  having  been  quite 
forgotten,  and  this  last  poor  witticism  of  Hutchins's 
serving,  like  the  cracker  in  the  bottom  of  the  Roman 
candle,  to  scatter  them. 

"  Let  the  little  fellows  go  home,"  said  Blake, "  because 
tlieir  legs  are  short,  and  they  Avant  to  start  early.  I 
propose  to  see  this  fire  out." 

The  natural  effect  of  this  speech  was  to  stop  all  the 
younger  boys  who  had  started  to  go. 
2 


26  ANTONY  BRADE. 

^My  fathers  and  grandfathers,"  said  Wilkins,  glad  of 
80  large  an  audience,  "were  all  gentlemen."  This  he 
said  with  much  satisfaction,  and  with  that  kindliness, 
and  that  condescension,  and  that  easiness  to  be  pro- 
pitiated, which  mild  people  show  who  are  secure  in  the 
enjoyment  of  a  privilege  which  cannot  be  shared  by 
others. 

"  Your  father  used  to  make  real  good  clo'es,  I  know,'' 
said  Hutchins ;  "  but "  — 

"But  he  didn't  make  'em  himself:  his  men  made 
'em,"  said  the  scion  of  a  noble  stock.  "  lie  had  ever  so 
many  men," 

Wilkins's  gentility  was  allowed  to  stand  where  he 
put  it.  Hutchins's  attention  was  drawn  to  something 
else. 

"There's  Brade, now,  ain't  it?  Don't  he  walk  like  a 
lordship?"  he  said  ;  and  a  boy  drew  near,  with  one  of 
those  gaits  peculiar  to  childhood,  —  a  sort  of  canter,  — 
in  which  that  age,  feeling  (no  thanks  to  Mr.  Darwin)  its 
bom  sympathy  with  lower  living  beings,  exjjresses  it 
often  by  imitation. 

Instead  of  coming  up  to  the  ring  round  the  fire,  the 
subject  of  Hutchins's  remark  turned  off  down  the  play- 
ground toward  the  West  Road. 

The  boys,  remembering  suddenly,  began  to  ask,  — 

"  Where's  the  woman  in  black  clothes  ?  " 

While  they  are  waiting  and  watching,  we  leave  them, 
to  take  the  reader  to  the  house  of  a  person  who  is  grow- 
ing interested  in  the  mystery  of  our  hero. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
MRS.   WADHAM  IS  INTERESTED. 

In  Eastharn,  at  that  time,  was  living  a  Mrs.  Malvina 
Wadham,  who  had  two  sons  at  St.  Bart's,  and  who 
heard,  in  due  course,  the  defective  and  conjectural 
story  of  Antony  Brade.  For  her,  indeed,  all  ears 
were  wells  into  which  ran  countless  underground  rills 
of  information,  and  out  of  which  she  drew,  as  she 
pleased. 

To  Mrs.  Wadham  few  things  were  impossible.  Her 
style  of  self-assertion  was  of  this  sort :  "  When  I  say 
a  thing's  got  to  be  done,  it  must  be  a  very  strange 
case,  — that  don't  often  occur,  —  or  it's  got  to  be  done, 
just  as  I  say.  When  I  put  down  my  foot "  (and  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  putting  down  one  of  her  solid 
instruments  of  locomotion),  "something"  (very  em- 
phatically, and  with  a  pause)  "  has  got  to  start."  She 
had  sent  her  husband  out  to  some  far  land  of  promise 
to  make  his  fortune,  while  she  administered,  at  home» 
what  was  generally  thought  to  be  a  pretty  snug  for- 
tune, already  made.  That  she  should  take  comfort  out 
of  it,  if  she  did  ("  though  Dear  knows,"  she  said,  "  the 
worry  of  managing  so  much  —  the  brain-work  and 
the  mind-work  —  is  worth  more  than  any  satisfaction 
there  is  in  it),"  —  but  if  she  did  take  comfort  in  it,  she 
"  had  a  good  right  to,"  she  said,  "  for  it  was  by  her 


28  ANTONY  BRADE. 

advice,  and  by  her  lookin'  to  things,  and  seein'  to 
every  tiling  and  advisin*,  that  it  was  what  it  was.  She 
hoped  his  children  would  realize  that.  Her  advice 
had  always  been  jest  right,  — jest  the  thing  that  was 
wanted." 

The  name  was  said  to  have  come,  by  some  law  of 
*'  development,"  through  "  Wad-DELL  "  from  —  shall  we 
say  it  ?  "We  do  not  like  to  confess,  but  yet,  after  all, 
do  find  a  certain  pleasure  in  it.  The  "  origin  "  of  this 
"  species  "  was  "  Waddle." 

This  lady  lived  in  Eastham,  in  a  house  which  illus- 
trated her  assertion  of  herself.  She  had  bought  a  small 
bit  of  gi'ound,  and  run  up  upon  it  a  slight,  thin,  spread- 
ing structure  of  boards,  with  gables  and  bows,  and 
bays,  and  pinnacles,  and  pendicles,  and  dormer-win- 
dows, and  (for  any  thing  that  we  know)  a  clere-story, 
and  something  atop  that  was  not  a  clear  story,  but 
half-roof;  and  so  had  covered  her  ground  up.  Then 
she  had  hired  a  bam,  of  a  farm-house  close  by,  for 
"  her  can-iages  and  horses,"  and  she  was  complete. 
"It's  only  a  summer  veranda  —  1  call  it.  That's  just 
what  it  is,  —  only  a  summer  veranda.  It'll  do  for  me 
in  my  widowhood,"  she  said  pleasantly,  "and  when 
I  go  away,  I  shall  sell  it ;  and  that's  the  last  of  it,  as 
far  as  I'm  concerned.  —  That's  all  there  is  about  it." 

Climbers  and  creepers  everywhere,  and  flowers  in 
pots  on  the  piazzas  and  window-sills,  had  supplied  the 
place  of  trees  and  shrubs  in  summer ;  and  now  what 
were  left  of  them  made  a  fresh  and  cheery  house  inside. 
A  good  solid  wood  fire  was  blazing  one  November 
morning,  on  handsome  French  andirons,  toward  which 
Mrs.  Wadham  was  stretched  nearly  at  full  length  in 
her  chaift 


MBS.    WADHAM  IS  INTERESTED.  29 

This  lady,  as  we  have  said,  had  heard  of  Antony 
Brade  and  what  there  was  of  his  story,  and  still  more 
what  there  was  not  of  it,  and  she  reasoned  about  it  in 
tliis  way :  "Who  says  you  can't  find  out  a  boy's  history, 
and  his  antecedents  ?  "  (this  word  with  ranch  distinct- 
ness). "  I  should  like  to  see  a  boy  that  I  couldn't  find 
out,  if  I  tried  to  "  (and  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that 
her  fixce  was  very  square,  and  very  set,  —  when  it  was 
set,  —  and  rather  hard). 

Her  daughter  Minette  (whom,  for  some  reason  of 
their  own,  the  young  men  of  her  acquaintance  called 
"  Toby  ")  was  much  like  her  mother,  perhaps,  in  sub- 
stance, but  smoothed  off  considerably  by  some  years 
of  costly  education.  To  her,  too,  it  seemed  that  the 
secret  of  the  boy  might  be  found  out.  They  both 
agreed, — the  mother  that  any  thing  of  that  sort  ought  to 
be  known  ;  and  the  daughter,  that  any  thing  of  that  sort 
might  as  well  be  known.  "  There  was  no  occasion  for 
any  concealment,"  the  mother  said  :  "  if  a  thing  was 
honest  and  honorable,  there  was  no  necessity  for  it; 
and  if  there  was  any  thing  wrong  about  it,  it  hadn't 
any  right  to  be  concealed,  and  the  sooner  it  was  known 
the  better  for  all  parties." 

The  mysterious  character  of  the  Ryan  family  was  by 
no  means  unknown  or  unconsidered  by  the  Wadliams. 

"  I'm  sure,  Ma,"  said  the  daughter,  "  there's  nothing 
about  them:  they're  just  like  any  other  family  that 
has  risen  up.  The  mother  's  not  educated  much,  —  a 
foreigner.  The  girl's  a  bright  girl,  —  I  know  from 
having  her  in  my  Sunday  class,  —  and  she's  lady-like 
enough,  considering  she  can't  have  had  advantages  ot 
society,  and  all  that ;  and  then,"  continued  Miss  Min- 
ette, making  a  concession  that  not  every  young  lady 


80  ANTONY  BR  ABE. 


will  make,  even  in  case  of  a  person  whom  she  does  not 
consider  quite  on  her  own  level,  '*  she's  pretty." 

"Yes,  biiby-pooty,"  said  the  elder:  "big  blue  eyes, 
and  a  smooth  skin  and  a  dab  of  red  ;  but  then,  as  you 
say,  where  does  all  their  money  come  from  ?  I  say 
they're  employed,  most  likely,  to  have  an  eye  to  this 
young  heir  to  —  whatever  he's  heir  to;  for  I  take  it" 
(dropping  her  voice,  and  giving  a  tone  of  inquiry  to  it, 
and  looking  scrutinizingly  at  her  single  listener)  "  he's 
heir  to  something,  if  it's  only  a  common  fortune,  and 
no  title  nor  nothing." 

But  the  daughter  had  either  heard  much  less,  or 
attached  much  less  importance  to  what  she  had  heai'd, 
for  she  said,  — 

"  I  can't  see  exactly  what  ground  there  is  for  sup- 
posing any  connection  between  that  boy  and  this 
family.  Why  couldn't  he  be  as  great  as  you  please, 
and  yet  go  to  school,  like  anybody  else,  without  a 
family  set  to  watch  over  him  secretly  ? " 

The  mother  was  equal  to  meeting  this  suggestion. 

"Why !  that's  their  way  of  doing  things,  that's  all. 
Yes,  that's  their  way.  Why!  he  bears  it  on  his  front, 
I'm  sure,  unmistakable  ;  and  he  has  the  finest  of  every 
thing,  —  no  matter  how  I  know  it,  but  I  know  it,  — 
the  finest  of  cloth  for  his  coat,  and  his  vest,  and  his 
pants,  and  the  best  of  shirts,  French  fashion,  and 
handkerchiefs,  plenty  of  'em  all,  and  all  of  the  best 
(I've  seen  'em) ;  and  all  marked  and  numbered  just  as 
pooty  " — 

"  But  all  that,"  said  the  daughter,  who  seemed  to 
have  powers  of  reasoning  at  least  equal  to  those  of  her 
mother,  "  don't  show  what  the  Ryans  have  to  do  with 
him.    It  may  all  be,  —  and  I  don't  say  it  is  not ;  <  nly  I 


MRS.    WADE  AM  IS  INTERESTED.  31 

don't  see  what  reason  there  is  for  thinking  so.  I  don't 
see  any  objection  to  any  one's  following  up  this  due  (in 
a  proper  manner,  of  course)  ;  and  if  it  loads  to  the 
Ryans,  or  through  the  Ryans,  wliy,  then  he'll  find  out 
two  secrets,  instead  of  one." 

The  good-natured  tone  in  which  she  spoke  disarmed 
the  otherwise  formidable  and  murderous -sounding 
words  "  to  the  Ryans  or  through  them"  of  any  terrors. 

"  Then  you  agree,"  said  the  mother,  as  if  right  and 
wrong,  in  any  case  about  which  they  formed  judg- 
ments, were  settled  by  the  agreement'  of  the  court, 
—  "you  agree  that  it  would  be  well  to  find  this  thing 
out,  —  to  probe  it  to  the  bottom.  Now  my  way  would 
be  this :  I  should  go  straight  to  head-quarters.  I 
should  "  — 

"  But,  Mother,"  said  the  daughter,  "  you  can't  make 
it  your  business"  — 

"  That  isn't  the  way  I  should  do  it,  at  all,"  interrupted 
the  mother,  in  her  turn.  "  You  don't  understand.  I 
shouldn't  make  it  my  business.  I  should  go  —  where's 
Eldridge?"  she  asked,  interrupting  herself  in  the  middle 
of  a  sentence  ;  and  then,  looking  round  and  not  seeing 
him,  she  proceeded :  "  I  should  go  to  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew's School,  and  I  should  say, '  I  want  to  see  your 
alcoves'  (any  parent,  or  anybody,  has  a  right  to  go  and 
demand  to  see  every  alcove  at  any  time,  to  see  what  the 
accommodations  are,  and  how  they're  kep'  up).  Mr. 
Parmenter  maintains  that  principle.  He  likes  to  have 
'em  goin'  and  then  comin'  and  tell  in'  him,  so's  to  show 
that  he  looks  after  things  up  there.  Anybody  is ;  an' 
I've  got  two  sons  there." 

"But,  Mother,"  interposed  Miss  Minette,  "you 
wouldn't   want   to   so   and  demand "  — 


82  ANTONY  DRADE. 


"  That  isn't  the  way  I  should  do  it,"  said  the  mother, 
who  seemed  equal  to  any  emergency.  "  You  don't 
understand.  I  say  anybody's  got  the  right.  I  wa'n't 
a-goin'  to  xxse  it.  I  shouhl  go  there  to  see  the  alcoves. 
I  should  find  out  from  Albert — no,  from  Edmund  (our 
Edmund)  —  whicli  Brade's  was,  and  one  or  two  more. 
I  should  have  a  friend  with  me.  I  should  say,  '  Look 
here!  this  alcove  is  very  pooty,  or  neat,  or  snug,'  which- 
ever it  might  be ;  and  I  should  see  all  tliere  was  there. 
Then  I  should  send  for  the  boys,  'with  Mrs.  Wadham's 
compliments,'  and  apologize  to  'em  for  having  made  free 
with  their  alcoves ;  and  I  should  send  for  Brade  last, 
and  I  should  compliment  him,  and  put  him  in  good 
humor;  and  then  I  should  mention,  incidentally,  souve- 
neersfrom  home,  and  make  alloosions  ;  and  then,  if  I  saw 
that  he  was  close,  I  should  say,  '  Never  mind,  dear,  — 
another  time:  it'll  do  jest  as  well.'" 

As  Mrs.  Wadham  said  this,  in  a  very  small  and  tender 
voice,  she  patted,  with  fat  and  many-ringed  fingers,  the 
air,  which,  perhaps,  to  her  quick  mind,  represented  the 
head  of  the  mysterious  boy.  Having  finished  this  scene, 
she  presented  another. 

"And  if  I  should  find  his  heart  tender,  and  his  eyes 
swimmin',  I  should  jest  draw  him  up  to  me  "  (here  she 
suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and  drew  up  to  her  the 
shapeless  air),  "  and  tell  him  to  put  his  head  on  my 
bosom,  and  think  I  was  his  mother,  and  what  a  tender 
name  that  was !  —  there  wasn't  any  thing  like  a  mother; 
and  not  to  be  afraid  to  confide  in  me,  for  I  was  used  to 
such  things.  So  I  should  sort  o'  pave  the  way,  you 
see." 

Here  she  made  a  gesture  with  both  hands,  not  quite 
like  any  form  of  paving,  but  something  like  brushing 


MRS.    WADHAM  IS   INTERESTED.  33 

slight  trifles  out  of  the  Avay,  which,  perliaps,  was  as 
much  in  her  thoughts. 

"  Well,  —  but,  Mother,  what  would  Mrs.  Warren 
think?"  asked  the  daughter. 

"  Fiddles ! "  said  Mrs.  Wadham,  loftily,  "  for  what  any- 
body thinks,  when  you're  in  the  right."  Then,  being 
carried  off  her  feet  (metaphorically)  on  tlie  tide  of  her 
own  words:  "Civility  is  a  very  good  thing;  and 
courtesy  is  a  very  good  thing;  and  ceremony,  and 
politeness,  and  all  that, —  all  very  good  things;  but 
not  to  interfere  with  dooty.  £)ereniony's  one  thing, 
dooty's  another." 

"But,  Mother,"  interposed  the  daughter  once  more, 
"  Mrs.  Warren  miglit  be  hurt,  if  you  "  — 

"  I  shall  make  it  all  right  with  Mrs.  Warren,"  said  Mrs. 
Wadham  with  dignity,  feeling  that  she  was  older  tliaa 
her  daughter.  "I  shall  make  a  point  of  sending  for 
Mrs.  Warren,  and  tell  her,  in  a  lady-like  way,  '  I  hope  I 
haven't  interfered  with  any  of  her  arrangements  in 
exercising  my  privilege  of  visitation  ;  and  I'm  happy  to 
find  (if  it  should  be  so)  that  she  doesn't  need  any  sud- 
gestions,'  —  not  reproof.^  nor  instructions, —  I  shouldn't 
use  that  word,  — '  doesn't  need  any  sudgestions.'  That 
will  make  that  all  right." 

The  daughter,  who  bade  fair  to  be  one  day  as  big  as 
her  mother,  and  perhaps  to  carry  as  much  moral  weight, 
was  not  yet  quite  able  to  withstand  the  solid  bulk  of 
her  mother's  advance,  and  perhaps,  indeed,  was  inclined, 
by  curiosity,  to  let  her  go  on. 

At  the  moment,  catching  sight  of  some  one  coming 

toward  the  open  parlor-door,  she  got  up  fron\  her  chair 

and  walked  toward  him;  but  her  mother,  who  kept  lier- 

self  in  the  practice  of  putting  things  together,  having 

2*  c 


^4  ANTONY  BRADE. 


obsoivrd  her  look,  or  hearing  a  footstep,  called  out 
promptly, — 

♦*EUlridge!  Oh,  it  ain't  Eldridge,"  she  said,  as  no 
answer  came. 

"Mr.  Greenwood,"  said  the  daughter,  and  a  small, 
soft-voiced,  sharp-faced,  and  rather  melancholy-looking 
gentleman,  wishing  the  ladies  "good  day,"  came  in  and 
was  made  welcome. 

"Fine  growing  weather ! "  he  said,  as  he  sat  down,  after 
squeezing  his  soft  hat  into  a  pocket,  and  rubbed  his  hands 
together. 

"  I  do'no'  what  you'd  grow  in  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham, 
"  unless  you  mean  grow  cold.  It's  cold  enough,  I'm  sure, 
for  this  time  o'  the  year,"  and  so  she  poked  the  fire,  and, 
with  a  vigorous  thrust  or  two,  brought  forth  obedient 
flames. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  stretching  out  one  leg, 
and  rubbing  the  side  of  the  knee,  "  didn't  they  use  to 
call  these  growing  pains  ?  "  and  the  face  looked  suddenly 
and  unaccountably  droll. 

Miss  Minette  smiled  an  appreciative  smile.  The 
mother  set  her  face  with  a  special  grimness,  and  then 
formally  relaxed  the  special  grimness,  and  said, — 

"Oh,  a  joke!"  then  paused.  "What  do  you  think  of 
our  mystery  now?"  she  added,  after  giving  time  fur 
things  to  settle  from  her  guest's  humorous  effort,  which 
chilling  pause  he  seemed  to  enjoy  under  his  sadness,  as 
did  Miss  Minette,  who  laughed  a  short  laugh. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood, "  isn't  that  all  settled  yet  ? 
I  liear  but  one  opinion ;  but  then  you  know  I  live  a  very 
retired  and  studious  life." 

"Settled!  How?"  exclaimed  the  solid  lady  of  the 
house,  turning  round  upon  her  chair  and  facing  him. 


MRS.    WADHAM  IS  INTERESTED.  35 

with  the  poker  in  hei-  hand,  and  a  fixed  and  steadfast 
gaze  in  lier  face,  her  chin  being  a  little  dropped,  and 
her  mouth  hanging  a  little  way  open. 

Mr.  Greenwood  certainly  could  be  as  sad-looking  at 
times,  by  nature  or  habit,  as  if  the  whole  of  life  and 
the  world,  and  whatsoever  ,is  and  whatsoever  appears, 
were  a  standing  painful  mystery  to  him.  He  was,  when 
one  looked  into  his  eyes,  especially  sad-looking.  Miss 
Minette  seemed  already  amused,  or  ready  to  be 
amused. 

"  I  thought  it  was  all  settled  that  he  was  a  young 
foreigner,"  said  the  visitor,  giving  little  encouragement 
to  any  expectation  of  fun,  but  speaking  very  seriously 
and  gravely. 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  lady,  with  a  toss  of  her  poker,  "  that's 
an  old  story,  —  that  isn't  up  to  the  times.  lie's  a  for- 
eigner, we  know.  Now  the  question  is,  what  sort  of  a 
foreigner?  If  we've  got  a  young  dooke,  or  a  prince,  or 
a  premier  among  us,  I  think  we  ought  to  know  it,  — ■ 
I  do  !  I  think  it's  no  more  than  our  dooty  to  society." 
And  again  she  fixed  her  gaze  upon  him  squarely. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  "society's  a  good 
tiling :  let's  discharge  our  obligations  to  hei'.  You 
say  he's  a  Russian?" 

"No,  I  didn't  say  he  was  a  Russian ;  but  it  wouldn't 
be  strange  if  he  was  a  Russian.  But  he  may  be  a  Rus- 
sian, or  he  may  be  a  Cir-cassian.  What's  the  great 
difference,  when  you  get  to  foreigners,  provided,  mind 
you,  that  they  belong  to  the  upper  classes  ?  Only,  if 
there's  any  deception,  we  ought  to  know  it.  Decep- 
tion's tryin'  to  outwit  us, —  that's  what  deception  is; 
and  we  mustn't  let  'em." 

"I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  solemnly  and  earn- 


86  ANTONY  miADK. 

estly,  "  I'm  willing  to  give  my  little  help  to  the  detection 
of  a  plot  against  society." 

"'Taint  consistent  with  our  rciiublican  institootions," 
she  said,  taking  a  fresh  start. 

To  this  Mr.  Greenwood  answered  deliberately  that 
"  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was."  "And  then,"  said  he, 
"if  your  sons  are  likely  to  be  associating  with  a  duke 
in  disguise,  or  a  Czar  of  Bohemia,  you've  a  right  to 
know  what  company  they're  keeping." 

Mrs.  Wadham's  face  relaxed ;  but  she  could  not 
accept  the  political  geograi)hy.  "I  guess  you  won't 
find  any  Czar  of  Bohemia.  Bohemia's  a  part  of  the 
empire  of  Austria.  I've  been  through  it.  Come  to 
Russia,  and  you're  more  like  it.  But  the  next  thing 
is,"  she  continued,  "  what  you're  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

"That's  it,"  said  her  visitor,  "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?  If  a  little  knowledge  of  foreign  lan- 
guages—  but  I  hear  the  boy  don't  know  any  thing 
but  English." 

Mrs.  Wadham  did  not  overwhelm  this  suggestion 
about  English  with  irony  or  with  scornful  eloquence ; 
but  she  met  it  with  much  shrewdness: 

"  He  don't  know  !  What's  he  going  to  know  except 
just  what's  put  into  his  mouth  ?  But  ain't  he  goin'  to 
have  memories  of  his  native  land  ?  Squeeze  a  leaf,  and 
ain't  there  an  aroma?"  She  illustrated  this  with  a 
geranium  leaf,  successfully. 

Mr.  Greenwood,  in  a  low  voice,  said  that,  "  if  it  was  a 
memory  of  the  native  land  brought  that  out,  he  won- 
dered what  sort  of  country  one  particular  kind  of 
cabbage  remembered  so  strongly,  that  Mr.  Parmenter 
was  raising,  on  his  low  grounds?" 


MBS.    WADHAM  IS  INTERESTED.  37 

She  continued,  without  check :  "  Yes !  can't  you 
appeal  to  'em?  Haven't  we  known  of  foreigners  that 
were  as  hard  as  you  please  ;  but  give  'em  a  little  toone 
upon  your  dulcinets  and  your  castanets"  (here  Mrs. 
Wadham  illustrated,  with  her  fingers,  fi^rst  the  twanging 
of  melodious  chords,  as  of  a  stringed  instrument,  and, 
next,  the  airy  touch  which  draws  the  responsive  soul 
from  ivory  keys),  "and  then  you've  got  'em."  (Mr. 
Greenwood  applied  his  handkei'chief  to  his  eyes,  but 
only  passingly,  and  said  "  that  was  human  nature.") 

Miss  Minette  was  a  musical  person,  and  sat  a  little 
impatient  under  this  figurative  representation.  "I 
don't  know  about  those  musical  instruments,"  she  said, 
"  but,  Ma,  that's  the  way  it  is  in  story-books." 

"  No,  it  isn't  story-books !  That  great,  fat  Gretkins 
Warter  wasn't  a  story-book,  that  fell  down  flat,  like  a 
shot,  and  kicked  out  her  two  great  feet,  as  stiff  as  that 
poker  !  Now,"  said  she,  "  that's  just  what  I  should  try, 
—  that's  just  what  I  should  try." 

Now  Mrs.  Wadham  had  said  enough  to  warrant 
her  sitting  still,  and  looking  him  broadly  and  steadily  in 
the  face  again,  as  having  jjresented  him  Avith  a  very 
complete  "  case." 

"I  think  that's  just  what  I  should  like  to  see  tried," 
said  Mr.  Greenwood.  "It's  like  a  chemical  process,  I 
suppose,"  he  continued,  in  a  pleasant  voice.     "  You  "  — • 

"  That's  just  it,  exactly,"  she  said,  accepting  the  simile 
as  soon  as  she  knew  that  a  simile  was  coming,  and  be- 
fore she  heard  it.  So  Mr.  Greenwood  did  not  follow 
out  the  figure. 

"  Or  like  a  mechanical  appliance." 

"  Yes,  yes,  — '  a  mechanical  appliance.'  It's  like  a  good 
many  things.     Now  what  we  want,"  she  said,  getting 


SS  ANTON F  BRADE. 

the  lead  again,  as  became  her,  "is  a  little  —  what  shall 
we  say?  —  Russian?     Yes!  a  little  Russian," 

" I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  diffidently,  "that 
•we'd  got  a  little  Russian,  and  wanted  to  get  into  our 
little  Russian." 

Miss  Minette  smiled.  Mrs.  Wadham  did  not  recog- 
nize this  harmless  attempt  as  a  joke,  but  took  it  seri- 
ously, and  wasted  no  time  over  it. 

"  Well,  we  want  the  Russian  language,"  she  said. 

"  If  you  say  so,"  he  said,  accommodatingly,  "  let's 
have  the  Russian  language.  What's  the  evidence  that 
he's  Russian?  That's  settled,  is  it?  Certainly,  his 
hair  curls,  —  that's  like  Peter  the  Great ;  and  he's  thin- 
skiimed.  The  air  in  those  northern  countries  is  so  sharp 
it  takes  off  all  the  outside,  — '  the  cuticle,'  as  the  doctors 
call  it." 

"  Let's  see  the  book !  Where's  Peter  the  Great !  " 
cried  the  mother;  and  as  Miss  Minette  turned  to  a 
bookcase,  Mr.  Greenwood  added  one  little  particular, 
to  prevent  a  possible  disappointment:  — 

"  Unless  they've  got  him  there  in  his  wig,  which  was 
straight." 

Miss  Minette  smiled.  Presently,  having  found  the 
book,  and  opened  it,  she  proclaimed  the  result :  "  You're 
right :  his  hair  is  CJU'ly." 

"What  else  is  the  child?"  Mrs.  Wadham  asked, 
witl't  a  conclusive  air,  and  repeated,  "  What  else  is 
he?  He  ain't  an  American,  —  that  we  know;  nor  he 
ain't  an  Englishman,  nor  a  F'renchman.  Then  what  is 
he?  Why,  here's  a  story  that  says  'he's  Russian.' 
Now  where  does  that  come  from?  Where  there's  a 
grain  of  fiie,  I  say,  there's  a  spark.  I  mean  where 
there's  a  spark,  there's  iire." 


MRS.    WADE  AM  IS  INTERESTED.  39 

"  Both  propositions  are  true  and  logical,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I  suppose  we  may  say  that  where  rumor 
asserts  a  thing  persistently,  when  there's  no  reason  for 
it,  there  must  be  something  in  it." 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  too  close  and  clear  a  reasoner,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  accept  any  poor  work,  for  her  argu- 
ment. "  How  do  you  mean  '  there's  no  reason  for  it '  ?  " 
she  asked,  looking  at  him  with  a  most  searching  and 
unflinching  stare. 

"  Why,  in  this  case,"  answered  the  acquiescing  visitor, 
"  there's  no  interest  to  be  served  by  representing  him  as 
Russian.     Nobody's  going  to  gain  any  thing  by  it." 

"  Now,  I  see,  you  talk  reason,"  she  said.  "  What  we 
want  is  to  try  the  boy  with  something  that'll  remind 
him  of  his  far-off  home,  you  know ;  and  ray  opinion  is 
if  we  try  him  with  a  pretty  little  scene  from  his  native 
land,  and  a  little  song,  or  a  few  words  of  his  mother- 
tongue,  we  shall  do  it.  Who  is  there  that  can  talk 
Russian?  There  must  be  Russian  ships  coming  into 
Boston  and  Noo  York  every  day." 

"Not  so  often  as  that,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  —  "not 
so  often  as  that." 

"  Well,  they  must  have  Russian  Bibles  ;  and  if  I  had 
a  Russian  Bible,  and  a  dictionary,  I'd  get  enough,  in 
half  an  hour,  to  find  him  out,  I'll  be  bound.  He's  only 
a  boy." 

"  You  wouldn't  undertake  to  make  a  '  Ranz  des 
Vaches'  out  of  a  Russian  Bible  and  a  dictionary,  in 
half  an  hour.  Mother ! "  said  Miss  Minette,  laughing. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  her  have  a  fair  chance,"  said 
Mr.  Greenwood,  gravely.  "  She  wants  to  prove  to  this 
little  chap  at  St.  Bart's,  and  the  rest  of  us,  that  he's  a 
Russian,  of  noble  birth ;  and  if  she  could  take  him 


40  ANTONY  DllADE. 

unawares,  ami  sing  him  a  little  simple,  artless  song,  in 
what  she  calls  his  mother-tongue,  who  knows  what  the 
effect  would  be?" 

But  this  was  going  beyond  Mrs.  Wadham's  limit,  and 
she  applied  a  check. 

"  I  haven't  said  any  thing  about  singing  a  song,  ran- 
des-yacAes  or  ren-dez-uows.  No,  I  beg  you  not  to 
mistake  me.  I  know  very  well  what  I'm  saying.  I 
say,  if  somebody^ —  not  1,  —  not  I,  —  if  somebody  would 
only  sing  a  few  words  to  him,  —  a  song  of  infoncy,  —  a 
song  of  home,  —  he'd  touch  the  hidden  springs,  and 
there'd  be  a  gush  "  (there  was  a  little  confusion  in  the 
imagery,  here,  but  she  evidently  knew  what  she  was 
saying)  "  and  a  rush,  and  there  it  would  be,  —  you'd 
have  him." 

Mr.  Greenwood,  before  the  weight  and  force  of  these 
words,  sat  very  meekly,  and  at  the  end  he  said,  "  Of 
course  you  wouldn't  sing  it.  Miss  Minette  would  have 
to  do  that  for  us "  —  ("  I  beg  you'll  excuse  me  front 
singing  Russian,"  said  Miss  Minette)  "  of  your  mother's 
composing,"  continued  he,  turning  to  her,  with  much 
earnestness  and  a  wave  of  the  lumd,  all  which  precipi- 
tated the  young  lady  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  in  which  he 
left  her  and  turned,  gravely  and  silently,  to  listen  to  the 
mother. 

"It  needn't  be  poetry,"  she  said.  "If  I  had  to  get  it 
out  of  the  Bible,  I  should,  most  likely,  choose  an  appro- 
priate text :  '  We  confess  we're  strangers  and  pilgrims ; 
we  want  a  better  country,  for  this  isn't  our  home,' 
2'hat  would  do!  that  would  do!  something  like 
that." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mr.  Greenwood,  "  if  you  could 
only  get  the  Russian  Bible  and  the  dictionary  ?  " 


MRS.    WADE  AM  IS  INTERESTED.  41 

"  They'd  have  'em  at  the  Depository,  to  give  to  the 
sailors  as  they  come  in." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  modestly,  "if  we  could 
be  sure,  now,  that  every  man  in  New  York  or  Boston, 
with  a  Bible  under  one  arm  and  a  dictionary  under  the 
other,  was  a  Russian  sailor —  don't  the  Swedes,  and  the 
Danes,  and  the  Portuguese,  go  the  same  way  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  not  to  be  led  off  by  any  senseless 
suggestions  of  this  sort. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  go  round  the  streets  after 
sailors  for  ?  What  I  say  is,  '  Go  to  the  Depository ; ' 
there  you'll  get  your  Russian  Bibles,  as  many's  you 
want." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  "Russian  ships 
don't  come  to  this  country,  and  so  they  wouldn't  keep 
any  Bibles  for  'em,  —  that  is,  I  don't  think  they  would." 

But  Mrs.  Wadham  knew  something  about  trade  :  — 

"  Why  don't  they  come  to  this  country?  Who  brings 
all  the  Russia  duck  and  "  — 

"  Why,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood  modestly,  like 
a  man  ready  to  learn,  "  Russia  ducks,  like  other  ducks, 
are  migratory  "  — 

"  Well,  well ! "  said  the  lady,  "  this  doesn't  bring  us 
any  nigher  to  our  point.  If  you  can't  try  one  thing,  try 
another,  7"  say,"  and  she  looked  straight  forward  into  the 
boundless  realms  of  thought,  abstractedly,  to  see  what 
that  other  thing  should  be. 

"You  want  to  touch  his  feelings,"  said  Mr.  Green- 
wood, now  proving  himself  more  serviceable  and  pur- 
pose-like. "  How  would  it  do  to  show  him  some 
affecting  scene  from  his  native  land,  —  the  murder  of 
Peter  the  Great,  or  something  like  that  ?  " 

"Was  Peter  the  Great  murdered?"  asked  the  lady, 


42  ANTONY  BRADE. 


turning  from  her  meditation,  and  speaking  liiie  one  wlio 
was  not  in  tlie  habit  of  taking  things  upon  trust. 

"  A  great  many  Peters  were,  at  any  rate.  Peter 
something  was ;  and,  I  suppose,  you'd  be  safe  in  saying 
any  Peter,  for  you  know  what  the  Russian  way  is. 
They  take  the  rightful  heir,  and  put  a  crown  on  his  head 
(a  splendid  crown,  —  heavy  gold,  and  all  covered  over 
with  jewels),  and  then  he  sits  on  a  great  throne, — ■ 
you've  seen  representations  of  them.  Well,  then  any 
man  in  the  Empire  has  one  shot  at  the  crown,  —  I  don't 
remember  what  the  distance  is,  —  and,  if  he  knocks  it  off, 
then  the  emperor  abdicates,  and  the  man  has  the  first 
jewel  he  can  pick  up.  '  Succession  by  Shot,*  I  believe 
it's  called." 

"  Suppose  the  emperor  gets  hit?  "  asked  the  lady,  not 
committing  herself  by  look  to  a  favorable  or  unfavorable 
estimate  of  this  information. 

"  If  he  dies,  then  that's  called  '  Succession  by  natural 
Order '  (or  '  by  the  Order  of  Nature,'  I  forget  which) ; 
it  he  doesn't  die,  they  try  it  over  again." 

Miss  Minette  was  not  as  gravely  affected  by  the 
tragical  character  of  the  tenure  of  the  Russian  throne 
as  this  story  was  calculated  to  make  her.  Indeed,  she 
laughed  at  it,  and  said  it  was  a  pretty  state  of  things  in 
the  Empire  of  all  the  Russias  if  that  was  the  way  with 
them. 

"  This  may  be  a  little  Czar  sent  here  to  escape  that 
ordeal,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  diffidently. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  mother,  "  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  You  might  have  something  out  of  history 
that  everybody  would  know.  There  was  that  burning 
of  Moscow,  —  they  used  to  have  a  panorama  of  it  going 
round.  That  would  do,  —  i/iai  would  do.  We  could 
easily  get  that  up." 


MBS".  WADBAM  IS  INTERESTED.  43 

"  How  was  it  got  up  ?  I  haven't  been  in  the  world 
as  long  as  that  ?  "  said  her  visitor. 

*'  Why,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham,  "  here  were  great  flames 
darting  out,  and  smoke  rollin'  off,  and  a  drumming  and 
a  thundering,  and  the  Kremlin  Tower  comin'  down"  — 

"The  CrumUlirC  Tower  you  mean,  perhaps,  if  it  was 
coming  down  in  that  style  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't:  I  mean  the  Kremlin  Tower.  I  know 
very  well  what  I  mean ;  and  then  the  great  bell  come 
down,  —  ding-dong !  ding-dong !  —  and  then  the  curtain 
fell." 

"And  speaking  of  bells  reminds  me  of  the  fair,"  said 
Mr.  Greenwood,  with  a  great  bow  to  Miss  Mii)ette. 
"  We  can  have  the  Fair  of  Nijni-Novgorod,  on  the  Ice ; 
and  we're  pretty  sure  of  killing  one  bird  with  two 
stones,  —  if  there's  no  member  of  the  '  Prevention  of 
Cruelty'  about." 

" '  Two  birds  with  one  stone '  it  is,  I  believe,"  said 
Mrs.  Wadham,  gravely  ;  for  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
got  the  proverb  wrong. 

"  You're  right,  it  is  so,"  he  answered,  accepting  the 
correction  handsomely  ;  "  but  why  can't  we  have  some 
tableaux,  whether  we  catch  this  little  chap  or  not?  It 
would  be  fun  for  the  Bartlemas  boys,  if  you  can  get 
them,  and  fun  for  everybody." 

"Why  shouldn't  we?"  asked  Miss  Minette,  eagerly. 
"It  would  be  just  splendid,  wouldn't  it?" 

"  Now  you're  on  the  track  of  something,"  said  the 
elder  lady,  who  had  set  them  upon  this  track.  "Now 
there's  some  prospect.  Well,  Mr.  Greenwood,  say  the 
■\vord.  When  shall  it  be?  You  shall  be  stage-manager 
and  costumer." 

"Are  we  going  to  have  'The  Russian  Succession,' 


44  ANTONY  BRADE. 

too?  or  only  *The  Burning  of  Moscow'?"  he  asked. 
"  We  can  have  the  one,  or  the  two,  or  the  three.  The 
Succession  would  be  very  effective,  especially  as  we 
should  have  to  put  Brade  through  it." 

"  Oh,  let's  have  it  by  all  means ! "  said  Miss  Minette, 
to  whom  the  prospect  seemed  very  suggestive  of  fun. 

"  We  must  have  your  mother  close  by  to  catch  him, 
if  we  knock  him  over,  and  to  take  his  head  in  her 
bosom,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  whose  plastic  eye  set  up 
for  him  already  the  future  mimic  scene. 

"  No,  you  don't,  I  thank  you,"  answered  that  sensible 
lady.  "I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  up  and  be  shot  at,  —  not 
for  nine  hundi*ed  and  ninety-nine  dollars  a  second. 
He'll  have  to  have  somebody  else  for  his  mother,  if 
that's  what  she's  got  to  do, —  I  can't  mother  him." 

"  We  can  take  out  the  balls,  for  any  but  the  good 
shots,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood. 

"  No,  you  won't  catch  me,  good  shots  or  bad  shots,  if 
it's  only  pop-guns." 

"Well,  somehow,  we  must  get  his  head  into  your 
hands,  and  have  that  little  song  of  home." 

"That  you  won't  get  from  me,  I  guess,"  said  the 
matron,  again  smiling,  but  with  decision. 

"And  where  are  you  going  to  get  your  Russian 
words?"  asked  Miss  Minette,  conclusively. 

"I  suppose  we  could  get  those  on  a  pinch,"  said  the 
future  stage-manager. 

"Then  you  begin  to  think  there  are  ships  coming  in," 
said  tlie  matron. 

"  No,  no ;  but  men  who  know  Russian.  I  didn't  mean 
to  mention  it  though." 

"  You  don't  know  Russian  ? "  asked  Miss  Minette, 
apparently  in  doubt  whether  he  was  in  jest  or  earnest. 


MRS.    WAD  HAM  IS  INTERESTED.  45 

"  You  say  so ; "  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  with  a  tone  of 
regret :  "  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much.  I  had  a  painful 
experience  in  that  way."  (Both  ladies  looked  at  him 
with  great  interest  and  curiosity.)  *'  I  shouldn't  like  it 
mentioned,  for  the  aspirations  of  an  ambitious  young 
man  were  crushed.  I  was  appointed  Secretary  of  Lega- 
tion to  Pekin,  —  St.  Petersburgh,  I  mean;  but  Mr. 
Everett  died,  and  the  embassy  didn't  go.  Nobody 
knows  that  here,  and  you  won't  tell  it,  will  you  ?  Now, 
I  am  just  working  very  hard,  in  a  respectable  and 
remunerative  way;  but  that  was  a  sad  damper. 
N'importe!"  he  added,  with  a  manly  spirit.  "Good 
morning,"  and  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room,  — 
followed  hospitably  through  the  entry  by  the  younger 
lady, —  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  BLACK   WATCH. 

Our  young  friends  at  the  bonfire  were  questioning 
where  the  lady  in  black  clothes,  who  had  gone  up  the 
West  Road,  now  was;  and  began  to  answer  them- 
selves. 

"  It's  getting  dark,  down  there :  soon  you  couldn't  tell 
her." 

But  in  every  boys'  gathering,  as  in  every  gathering 
of  men,  there  are  always  some  who,  finding  themselves 
gifted  with  extraordinary  faculties,  are  not  disposed  to 
keep  the  discovery  to  themselves. 

"  Oh,  I  could ! "  said  one  of  these  lucky  young  per- 
sons; and  his  reputation  was  at  once  extended  by 
Towne,  who  caught  up  his  words  and  proclaimed 
them. 

"Will  Hirsett  says  he  can  see  in  the  dark!"  which 
gave  Tom  Hutchins  a  chance  to  try  his  hand  at  one 
out  of  the  stock  of  figures  of  speech  to  which  each 
generation  comes  fresh :  — 

"  Oh,  yes !  he's  an  owl." 

Meadows  took  a  higher  flight  for  himself:  — 

"  /  could  see  in  pitch  dark,  —  I  always  could." 

Another,  a  doughy-looking  boy,  having  witnesseu 
the  strength  and  dexterity  with  which  Hutchins  had 
wielded  a  grown-up  man's  meta})hor,  in  calling  Hirsett 


THE  BLACK   WATCH.  47 

an  owl,  immediately  bandied  one  which  he  thought 
as  good,  or  better:  — 

"  Meadows  is  a  fowl.  Look  here,  fellows !  Meadows 
is  a  fowl." 

If  Meadows  was  quick  at  his  lessons,  he  was  also 
quick  in  his  temper,  too;  and  so  be  took  this  latter 
right  up:  — 

"And  Fatty  Dover  is  something  else  which  begins 
withy"  and  ends  with  I." 

Here  Hutchins,  who  bad  all  along  been  the  chief 
speaker,  hastened  to  use  another  opportunity :  — 

"  Take  care,  Meadows !  If  you  ain't  a  fowl,  don't  get 
afoul  of  him." 

But  before  the  audience  could  fairly  see  this  joke, 
Rerasen,  Brade's  champion,  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice :  — • 

"  There  she  is,  now !     She's  coming  back !  " 

*'  The  Black  Watch ! "  said  Hutchins ;  and  the  time 
being  propitious  for  the  taking  up  and  fastening  of  a 
name,  several  voices  adopted  it. 

"  Well !  Meadows  and  Hirsett  are  bright  fellows  to 
see  so  fast,  ain't  they?"  said  Hutchins.  "Now  for 
magic  and  mystery!  Where's  old  Peters,  with  his 
♦shrivelry,'  or  whatever  it  is,  he's  always  bragging 
about?  I  should  like  to  see  him  stick  his  nose  into 
any  thing  that's  got  any  ^ adventure^  in  it,  as  he  calls 
it!" 

The  boys  started  from  the  fire,  and  hurried  over  to 
that  side  on  which  the  mysterious  woman  (dressed  just 
like  a  mysterious  woman)  and  their  own  school-fellow, 
with  whom  they  supposed  her  darkly  connected,  were 
approaching  each  other.  They  were  away  before  Peters 
had  found  utterance  for  the  assertion  that  "  they'd  find 
he  wasn't  a  coward,  when  the  time  came."     Squads  of 


48  ANTONY  BRADE. 


twos  or  threes  got  behind  any  thing  (trees,  or  whatever 
else)  wliich  oftered  a  pretence  of  a  screen.  Some  —  as 
Will  Hirsett,  Fatty  Dover,  and  others  —  kept  them- 
selves aloof  from  all  entanglements,  on  the  open  ground. 

"He  ain't  a  bit  afraid,"  said  a  low  voice. 

"That's  what  you'd  be,  Fatty,  if  you  were  down 
there,"  said  another,  louder,  which  might  be  recognized 
as  Towne's. 

"He  don't  care  any  thing  about  her,  I  bet,"  said  Will 
Hirsett,  still,  however,  keeping  his  face  teward  the 
centre  of  all  interest.  By  degrees  all  came  forth  of 
their  hiding-places,  but  it  was  to  draw  down  nearer  to 
the  West  Road.  It  was  strange  how  they  had  wrought 
themselves  up. 

"  Look  here,  fellows ! "  cried  Tom  Hutchins,  "  I  don't 
think  this  is  very  gentlemanly.  I'm  going  oflj''  and 
accordingly  he  and  others  left  the  ground. 

Remsen  had  not,  like  the  rest,  gone  into  covert,  bnt 
had  followed  Brade,  at  a  slower  pace,  down  toward  the 
road. 

The  silent  figure  in  the  black  dress  went  steadily  on- 
ward ;  and  Brade  and  she,  without  ever  showing  any 
consciousness  of  each  other's  neighborhood,  or  ever 
turning  toward  each  other,  were  drawing  nearer  to  the 
Bame  spot. 

"Hold  on!"  said  the  boys  on  the  lookout,  and  Will 
Hirsett  as  eagerly  as  any  of  the  others.  They  even 
advanced  a  few  steps  toward  tlie  two,  over  whom,  to 
the  eyes  of  these  fresh  wearers  of  manhood,  a  mist  of 
glamour  was  thrown  (how  easily  these  things  happen 
to  childhood  !), 

"  I  bet  ye  he's  got  to  go,"  said  Will  Hirsett,  getting 
a  little  behind  two  or  three  boys.  • 


THE  BLACK   WATCH.  49 

"  Hold  on !  hold  on,  fellows !  "  said  others.  "  Le's  go 
down!"  said  one  or  two,  who  were  soon  checked. 

At  length,  while  they  looked,  Brade  stood  still,  just 
as  the  dark  figure  went  by  ("  Now !  now ! "  said  excited 
voices).  Kerascn  hastened  to  join  him,  when  suddenly, 
with  a  shout  or  cry,  Brade  started  up  the  hill,  eluding 
all  Remsen's  efforts  to  stop  him,  and  then  Remsen,  too, 
followed  him  at  full  speed.  The  dark  figure,  as  some 
boys  said,  turned  once;  but  the  general  impression 
was  that  it  moved  on  with  the  forward  steadiness  of 
Fate. 

But  there  was  a  commotion  among  the  watching 
boys ;  and  Will  Hirsett  ran  round  the  corner  of  the 
laundry,  from  behind  which  he  peeped  out. 

As  the  two  boys  came  on,  Brade  slackened  his  pace, 
and  then  stopped.  Remsen,  in  his  furious  speed,  was 
carried  on  beyond  him. 

"What  did  she  say?  What  did  she  do?"  asked  the 
boys  of  Remsen ;  Will  Hirsett's  curiosity  overcoming 
his  fear,  and  bringing  him  forward  from  his  hiding- 
place  doubtless,  with  his  eyes  staring  and  mouth 
yawning. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Remsen,  panting  and  out  of 
breath. 

"No,  no!  but  what  did  she  say?  what  did ^he.  do?" 
the  boys  persisted  in  asking. 

"Why,  I  told  you  the  exact  truth,"  answered  the 
besieged  boy.  "Now  you  want  the  exact  falsehood, 
do  you?" 

"  Yes,  yes !  do  tell  us  what  she  said,"  they  besought 
him. 

"  Run  for  your  lives  ! "  said  Remsen,  in  so  peremp 
tory  and  threatening  a  voice  that  Will  Hirsett  and 
3  D 


60  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Dover  instinctively  started  to  run,  althougl),  to  he  sure, 
they  soon  checked  themselves,  under  the  laughs  of  their 
companions,  and  put  the  best  (metaphorical)  face  upon 
it  that  they  could.  Will  Hirsett  said  that  he  "  was  in 
fun,"  and  Dover  claimed  that  he  "  only  just  thought  he'd 
go  away." 

The  appetite  of  these  boys  was  not  satisfied  with 
what  they  had  already  got.  Some  of  the  smaller  fellows 
began  again  the  inquiry :  — 

"  Did  she  really  say  that,  Rerasen  ?  "  which,  though  a 
rhythmical  utterance  (indeed,  not  a  bad  '  trochaic 
dimeter  acatalectic '  for  young  scholars,  if  we  take  ac- 
cent in  English  for  quantity  in  Gre^),  had  no  effect 
upon  the  obdurate  ears  to  which  it  was  addressed  ;  for 
Remsen  was  already  running  off;  and  now^  calling  Brade, 
he,  with  his  friend,  left  the  company  to  themselves. 

Towne  was  moving  about,  as  if  particularly  important 
and  full  of  meaning  :  — 

*'  I  know  something,"  said  he,  mysteriously  ;  and  not- 
withstanding Arthur  Meadows's  joke  (which  Arthur,  at 
least,  enjoyed  exceedingly),  that  "  he  was  glad  to  hear 
that ;  for  he  had  always  supposed  that  Towne  didn't 
know  any  thing,"  Towne  lost  no  time  by  attending  to 
him,  but  began  bestirring  himself,  and  calling  out,  — 

«  Wilkins !  Wilkins!  Say  !  look  here,  Willicks! "  and, 
having  brought  that  worthy  to  himself,  said  loudly 
enough  for  others  to  hear,  "  I've  got  a  way  to  find 
out!"  and  then,  in  a  low  voice,  drawing  Wilkins  ai)art, 
at  the  same  time  began  detailing  to  him  some  plan,  over 
which  he  himself  chuckled  a  good  deal  as  lie  tolil  it. 

Then,  aloud  again,  he  asked  his  confidant  *•  if  that 
wouldn't  be  splendid,"  and  received  his  assurance  that 
it  was  "  first-rate." 


THE   BLACK  WATOH.  51 

If  nothing  has  yet  been  cleared  up,  possibly  this  plan 
(still  more  possibly  something  else)  is  yet  to  give  us  all 
more  light. 

Here,  as  we  wish  to  keep  the  good  opinion  and  good 
will  of  all  our  readers,  we  advise  those  who  have  no 
mind  for  thought,  to  skip  over  this  next  half  page  or  so, 
which  is  written  for  such  as  will  read  it,  —  if  there  are 
any  such. 

As  mysteries  in  human  life  are  things  which  have 
their  whole  being  in  human  consciousness,  and  that  is  an 
element  more  changeful  and  shifting,  more  full  of  tides 
and  currents,  and  waves  and  eddies,  than  is  the  ever- 
flowing  sea  itself,  so  a  mystery  may,  like  a  thing  afloat 
upon  the  water,  be  wafted  into  a  sheltered  cove,  where 
it  falls  and  rises  with  the  ebb  and  flow  of  tide,  and  is 
left  behind  when  the  water  has  run  out ;  or  it  may  be 
flung  aloft  into  sight  on  the  cresting  top  of  a  breaker, 
and  drawn  back  in  the  blind  disorder  of  its  recoil,  and 
carried  ofi";  or  it  may  be  cast  up  and  abandoned  on  a 
beach,  a  thing  of  no  account,  or  a  clean  and  harmless 
thing,  or  a  thing  foul,  ofiensive,  and  pestilential ;  or  it 
may,  ere  it  be  borne  fliirly  within  grasp  of  hand  or  ken 
of  eye,  sink  into  the  depths,  and  never  more  come  up 
to  light  of  day. 

This  mystery  of  young  Brade  may  be  perhaps  but  a 
harmless,  pretty  thing,  —  perhaps  no  mystery  at  all; 
perhaps,  if  we  may  keep  up  our  figure,  not  more  a 
mystery  than  a  summer  boat,  riding  in  still  water  a  little 
way  off" shore  and  not  adrift,  but  fastened,  although  the 
moorings  chance  to  be  on  the  further  side  from  us 
unseen. 

Perhaps,  too,  there  is  more  in  it  than  this. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  BOY'S  OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT. 

Meantime,  it  must  be  supposed  that  the  boy  him- 
self, though  generally  seeming  indifFeront,  as  boys  do  in 
Buch  cases,  was  sometimes  annoyed  at  being  the  object 
in  this  way  of  constant  conjecture  and  occasional 
watching. 

That  afternoon,  when  they  had  got  a  little  way  from 
the  rest,  he  stopped,  hot  and  panting,  from  liis  run  with 
Remsen,  and  said,  after  some  delay  and  with  some 
difficulty,  though  at  the  same  time  without  whimi)ering 
or  breaking  down :  — 

"  Remmy,  I  wish  the  fellows  would  stop,  now !  They 
might  plague  me,  or  just  us  boys  in  the  school,  but 
they've  got  no  business  with  other  people." 

Remsen,  for  his  part,  was  willing  to  take  a  friend's 
share :  — 

"  I'm  sure  they're  welcome  to  plague  me,  too,  Anty, 
if  they  want  to ;  I  don't  care,"  he  said. 

"  But,"  said  Antony,  seriously,  "  they've  no  business 
to  bring  Mrs.  Ryan  into  it." 

"  Oh  1 "  said  Remsen,  '•  that's  only  their  nonsense,  and 
it  won't  do  any  harm.  They've  got  a  notion  she's  put 
here  to  watch  over  you." 

To  Remsen,  at  his  time  of  life,  a  romance  of  that 
sort  would,  perhaps,  seem  as  natural  as  any  other 
happening. 


THE  BOY'S    OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT.  53 

"  But  I  never  raade-believe  I  was  any  lord,  or  any 
thing;  so  I  don't  care  about  that,"  said  Brade.  "  I  don't 
suppose  any  person  believes  it,  and  I  don't  mind  "  — 

His  young  companion  was  not  quite  so  ready  to  let  a 
romance  go  out  of  life  •  — 

"  But  I  do  believe  you  are  something,  Bradey ;  I'm 
pretty  sure  of  it ;  every  thing  looks  like  it,"  answered 
Remsen,  laying  on  piece  afterpiece  of  probability,  until 
he  had  a  pretty  good  pile.  "And  they  do  send  away 
their  sons  in  disguise :  don't  we  read  about  'em  in 
books?" 

"  But  I  told  you  I  wasn't,  Nick,  —  I  said  I  wasn't.  I 
never  told  anybody  such  nonsense.  I'm  just  a  man's 
son,  like  any  of  the  boys." 

"But  you  never  saw  your  father,  Anty,"  argued 
Nicholas  ;  "  nor  your  mother." 

"  No,  I  never  saw  them,"  said  Antony ;  "  but,  then, 
I  know  about  them." 

"But  what  was  he?"  asked  his  friend.  "Do  you 
really  know?"  and  it  might  have  seemed  as  if  he  were 
at  the  very  brink  of  the  mystery. 

Brade  was  a  little  fellow  to  have  the  keeping  of  a 
secret  big  enough  for  a  man ;  but  for  a  moment  he  was 
as  thoiightful  as  a  man,  and  then  said :  — 

"  I  know  a  good  deal  about  him,  —  to  be  sure  I  do ; " 
and  now  again  it  might  have  seemed  as  if  the  mystery 
were  already  almost  open  to  the  eye. 

As  they  were  drawing  near  to  the  buildings,  they 
turned  oiF  toward  the  play-ground  again. 

"  Well,  won't  they  let  you  tell  ? "  asked  his  com- 
panion, eagei'ly. 

Again  Brade  was  silent,  as  they  walked,  and  then 
answered :  — 


64  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  All  I  know  isn't  much  of  a  secret.  I  should  like 
to  tell  you,  I'm  sure,  Rem.  I  will,  some  time ; "  and  he 
locked  his  arm  with  Remsen's.  "  I  can  tell  you  my 
mother  was  very  beautiful,  and  very  good,"  —  and  he 
hesitated  and  was  bashful,  as  most  boys  would  be, — 
and  he  put  up  his  free  hand  and  clasped  it  with  that 
which  held  Remsen's  ami. 

"  Oh,  I  know  she  was !  I'm  sure  of  it !  She  must  have 
been ! "  said  Remsen,  who  evidently  felt  almost,  if  not 
quite,  as  strongly  as  his  friend,  and  whose  voice  hesi- 
tated just  about  as  much.  He  drew  Antony's  arm  in 
closer  to  himself  as  he  spoke.  "And  what  was  your 
father,  Anty?"  he  asked. 

The  fading  of  the  daylight  and  the  chilling  of  the 
air  very  likely  intensified  the  feeling  of  both,  although 
they  probably  had  no  thought  that  coldness  and  dark- 
ness were  symbols  of  separation  and  mystery.  Here 
there  was  a  silence  again,  as  they  walked,  and  then 
what  seemed  like  an  agitated  movement  of  the  young 
sharer  in  (more  or  less  of)  a  great  social  or  family 
secret.     Remsen  hastened  with  his  sympathy  :  — 

"  Oh,  no  matter,  Bradey ! "  he  said  :  "  if  you  can't  tell, 
I  won't  ask." 

"  It  isn't  any  thing  very  strange,  only  I  can't,  now," 
said  Brade.  "You  tell  people  there  isn't  any  thing  at 
all,  won't  you,  Remmy  ?  There  really  isn't,  —  I'm  sure 
there  isn't.  If  anybody  asks  you,  you  won't  tell  them 
there  is  any  thing,  will  you?  " 

Remsen  promised,  as  strongly  as  if  he  knew  the 
whole  already ;  and  they  turned  again  toward  the 
buildings. 

After  another  silence  as  before,  Brade  went  a  little 
further  in  his  confidence  :  — 


THE  BOY'S   OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT.  55 

"  I  know  my  father  was  an  honorable  man," 

Renisen  was  quick  to  take  this  up.  "There,  that's 
it !     I  knew  it !  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that !  "  said  Antony.  "  I  don't 
mean  so  ;  but  she  always  said  '  he  was  a  man  I  might 
be  proud  of.' " 

"  Why,  I  thought  she  died  before  you  knew  any 
thing,"  said  his  friend.  "  I  didn't  know  you  ever  saw 
her." 

Here  was  another  bit  of  mystery. 

"  Oh !  my  mother  died  before  my  fjither  did,"  said 
Brade,  not  clearing  it  up  much. 

"  I'm  just  the  same  way,"  said  Remsen,  glad  to  be 
able  to  share  his  orphanhood,  "  only  I've  got  a  father. 
But  who  was  it  told  you  ?  " 

This  question  seemed  to  throw  Aotony  all  back.  "  I 
don't  know ;  let's  let  it  all  alone,"  he  answered.  "  Mr. 
Warren  knows.  Only  I  know  there  isn't  any  thing 
very  wonderful;  and  there  isn't  any  harm  in  it,  I  know 
that." 

To  this  last  assertion  Remsen  answered :  "  Oli ! 
nobody  ever  thought  of  that !  What  bad  would  there 
be,  if  you  had  a  great  title  ?  " 

Young  people  are  pretty  much  like  older  people  in 
the  matter  of  curiosity,  only  more  frank  and  straight- 
forward with  it.  So  Remsen  tried  once  more  at  another 
point,  leaving  these  that  his  friend  might  be  expected 
to  feel  too  strongly  about. 

"  Has  Mrs.  Ryan  got  any  thing  to  do  with  you  ?"  he 
asked,  in  tliis  way  bringing  them  back  to  the  point  from 
which  they  had  wandered. 

Poor  Antony  seemed  to  be  struggling  witli  the  diffi- 
culties of  hi;  position,  —  unwilling  to  be  so  reserved 


66  ANTONY  BRADE. 

with  his  friend,  and  yet   unable   to   speak  freely  to 
him. 

"  Remscn ! "  he  said,  pulling  the  arm  which  was 
between  his  two  hands,  "I  don't  want  to  talk  any 
more  about  ray  things.  You  see,  if  I  know  any  thing, 
I  can't  tell,  because  I  haven't  got  any  right  to ;  but  it 
isn't  much."  And,  when  his  companion  had  promised, 
Antony  made  a  little  further  advance  : — 

"  Now  mind,  Nick,  you  won't  say  there  is  any  thing, 
if  anybody  asks  you  or  not."  Remsen  promised 
again,  and  Brade  continued :  "  Then  I'll  tell  you  as 
much  as  I  can.  She  doesn't  meddle  with  me  at  all, 
but  I  know  she's  good.  She's  one  of  the  best  persons 
that  ever  lived  in  the  world,  —  everybody'd  like  her, 
—  and  the  boys  mustn't  insult  her !" 

Nothinsc  that  he  had  said  had  shown  more  feelinar 
than  this;  and  Remsen,  too,  was  very  much  moved. 
They  were  near  the  buildings  again,  and  lingered. 
Remsen  answered  for  the  boys :  "  Oh !  they  won't, 
Bradey!  they  didn't  mean  any  harm,  —  they  won't!" 
Remsen's  question  had  been  fairly  answered ;  and  yet, 
if  the  boy  thought  it  all  over,  he  would  see  that  little 
change  had  been  made  in  the  mystery.  Who  JVIrs. 
Ryan  was,  and  what  she  used  to  have  to  do  with 
Brade,  was  rather  deeper  in  the  dark  than  ever,  be- 
cause now  it  was  plain  that  there  was  something 
between  them ;  and  yet  they  had  nothing  to  do  with 
each  other.  Moreover,  it  had  been  told  him  that 
Brade's  father  was  a  "  man  to  be  proud  of,"  and  an 
"  honorable  man ; "  but  who,  or  what,  or  where  the 
father  had  been,  was  still  as  unknown  as  before.  And 
then,  too,  there  were  some  people  that  were  keeping 
Antony  Brade  from  telling  all  he  knew,  which  might 


THE   BOY'S    OWN  ACCOUNT   OF  IT.  57 

be  little  or  much,  but  which  was,  of  course,  not  so 
much  as  those  other  people  knew. 

Some  writers  of  novels  describe  what  passes  in  the 
minds  of  their  several  characters,  as  positively  and 
minutely  as  what  these  say  and  do.  We  cannot  treat 
the  personages  of  our  little  drama  in  this  way :  they 
seein  to  us  too  real.  And  so,  of  Remsen,  we  can  only 
say  that  boys  of  just  about  his  cleverness,  and  bearing 
such  a  relation  as  he  bore  to  Brade,  are  ca])able  of  good 
argument  (wanting  only  experience  of  life),  and  art 
more  under  the  influence  of  feeling  than  men.  The 
track  of  reasoning  which  we  have  pointed  out,  Remsen, 
we  think,  would  be  likely  to  take ;  and  we  think  that 
Brade's  positive  statements,  as  to  what  his  father  was 
and  was  not,  being  both  few  and  slight,  woiild  be  likely, 
as  time  went  on,  and  as  he  thought  the  whole  thing 
over,  now  and  then,  to  grow  less  and  less,  in  propor- 
tion ;  while  that  which  was  unknown  and  behind  the 
bars  of  secrecy,  being  capable  of  shaping  into  grandeur 
and  wonder,  which  Brade  would  well  befit  both  in  body 
and  spirit,  and  also,  being  callable  of  unstinted  stretch 
and  growth,  w^ould  be  likely  to  fill  more  and  more 
place  in  his  thought  and  memory. 

The  lamps  were  lighted  Avhen  the  two  young  friends 
went  in,  and.  streams  of  boys,  up  stairs  and  down,  and 
this  way  and  that,  in  the  entries,  were  moving,  as  they 
usually  move  in  idle  times.  One  boy,  occupied  with  a 
book,  and  another,  idle,  were  standing  under  a  lamp,  in 
a  corner. 

Boys  never  escape  banter,  from  some  one  or  other 

of  their  fellows,  when  there  is  any  occasion  for  it ;  and 

traces  of  the  strong  feeling  which  Remsen  and  Brade 

had   so   latefly   gone  through   were   still   to   be   seen, 

3* 


58  ANTONY  BRADE. 


when  they  showed  theinselves  in  the  hall,  to  the  knots 
and  pairs  of  standers  and  walkers  there. 

"  Ilillo !  what's  the  matter,  Enijieror  ? "  called  out 
one  of  the  loiterers,  as  the  light  fell  upon  Brade,  who 
was  hurrying  quietly  past  toward  the  school-room. 

Brade  neither  stopped,  nor  made  answer  of  any  sort; 
but  Remsen  took  his  place,  and,  going  up  to  the  boy 
who  had  spoken,  said  quietly,  — 

"Look  here,  Charley  Leavitt !  he's  just  been  telling 
me  about  his  father  and  mother,  and  he  feels  bad : 
don't  trouble  him !  " 

"  Why,  can't  a  fellow  talk  about  his  father  and 
mother,  without  feeling  bau  about  it  ?  "  Leavitt  asked, 
but  lowei-ing  his  tone,  considerately.  "  His  father  and 
mother  may  be  very  big ;  but  I  suppose  every  fellow's 
father's  the  same  to  him." 

"  Well,  but  his  father  and  mother  are  dead,"  an- 
swered Remsen,  "  and  he  don't  know  very  much  about 
'em,  because  they  died  before  he  was  born  "  — 

Just  then  an  unexpected  diversion  was  made,  which 
drew  the  conversation  away  from  Brade,  as  well  as 
could  have  been  wished. 

"  Look  here ! "  said  Towne,  who  was  just  coming 
from  the  school-room,  as  Remsen  had  reached  this 
point,  "how's  a  fello'  goin'  to  be  born  when  his 
father  and  mother's  dead?" 

Blake,  who  was  standing,  reflectively,  under  the  lamp, 
now  showed  that  he  had  his  eare  open. 

"  You  needn't  try  that  noio,  Towne,"  lie  said  very 
gravely.  "  It's  how  you  can  get  along,  now  you  are 
here." 

Brade  and  his  orphanhood,  and  all  that  was  unknown 
about  him,  were  forgotten  by  this  time ;  so  Remsen 


THE   BOY'S    OWN  ACCOUNT   OF  IT.  59 

followed  his  friend  into  the  school-room,  and  found 
him  there,  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  others,  Avho  were 
making  out  their  Latin,  asking  him  questions  which  he 
answered  without  book. 

Brade  himself  seemed  entirely  happy  now;  and,  when 
their  hanging  light  needed  turning  up,  mounted  to  the 
top  of  a  desk  with  great  alacrity,  before  any  one  else, 
to  set  it  right. 

As  he  stood  there,  for  a  moment,  he  was  certainly  a 
bright-looking  fellow,  and,  to  those  who  can  be  in- 
fluenced by  looks,  decidedly  interesting.  He  happened, 
to  be  sure,  to  be  a  well-dressed  boy,  —  and,  for  that 
matter,  altogether  well-dressed  :  from  his  collar  and 
neck-ribbon  down  to  his  well-cut  shoe,  with  silken 
braid  for  tie,  all  having  the  air  of  a  refinement  inborn 
in  him,  and  showing  itself  in  every  bend  and  joint  of 
his  body  ;  and  it  was  his  good  shape  and  features  that 
made  his  dress  particularly  becoming.  Two  or  three 
words  more,  as  he  is  the  hero  of  this  story,  we  will  add, 
with  our  readex-'s  leave,  to  his  portrait.  He  had  dark 
hair,  cut  short,  after  the  manner  of  school-boys  of  the 
day,  but  wavy  even  in  its  shortness.  A  few  freckles, 
on  his  cheeks  and  across  his  nose,  did  not  disfigure  him, 
but  only  showed  the  fairness  and  delicacy  of  his  skin. 
In  fact  he  was,  outwardly,  a  very  good  specimen  of 
school-boys. 

An  odd-looking,  indeed  a  fantastical-looking  boy 
had  been  hovering  not  far  away  from  this  group  during 
the  time  that  Brade  had  been  among  them,  and  with 
his  eyes  very  often  turned  to  Brade,  —  eyes  which 
showed  a  good  deal  of  white  between  the  iris  and  the 
lower  lid,  and  gave  their  owner  a  dreamy  expression. 
Sometimes   he   drew   near,    and   was   ajDparently  just 


60  ANTONY  BRADE. 


ready  to  speak,  and  sometimes  moved  otF  again,  but 
never  to  any  considerable  distance.  As  Bradejumjied 
down  to  the  floor,  the  boy,  starting  suddenly  forward, 
took  Itim  by  the  arm,  drawing  him  toward  the  side  of 
the  room,  and  saying,  at  the  same  time,  — 

"  Look  here,  Bradey !    I  want  to  tell  you  something.'' 

"Never  mind  Peters,  Brade!  he  can  wait.  What 
does  '  obvenerat*  mean  ?  "  called  out  one  of  tlie  studious 
company  engaged  at  the  desk.  "  Oh !  here's  Meadows  I 
Come  along.  Meadows :  we  want  to  pump  you."  But 
the  new-comer,  winding  between  desks  and  across 
seats,  found  his  way  to  his  own  books,  and  sat  down  by 
himself. 

Brade,  who  had  moved  a  little  way  off  with  Peters, 
now  stood  still  and  asked,  like  one  going  against  his 
will,  whether  it  was  "  any  thing  very  particular." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  said  Peters,  "  something  very  particular, 
indeed.  It  won't  take  a  minute ; "  and  he  tried  to 
draw  Brade  aside  still  further. 

"  He  wants  to  tell  you  about  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon,  or  Sir  William  Wallace,  or  something  lie's 
been  reading ! "  Nick  Remsen  called  out. 

»  No,  I  don't,  —  really  and  truly.  Really  I  don't," 
pleaded  Peters.  Brade  yielded  again,  and  went  a  little 
way  further  apart. 

"  May  I  trap  with  you  ?  "  Peters  asked.  "  You  know 
I'm  pretty  lucky." 

*'  Oh  !  that's  all !  "  said  Brade.  "  You  must  ask  Rem- 
sen :  I  don't  mind,  if  he  doesn't.     Was  that  all  ?  " 

"  No,  it  wasn't  all,"  said  the  other  boy,  hesitatingly, 
as  if  he  had  some  reluctance  about  saying  all  that  he 
had  to  say.  "  Look  here !  "  he  began,  with  a  queer 
sort  of  abruptness,  "  you  didn't  want  any  succor  out 
there,  to-night,  did  you  ?  " 


THE  BOY'S   OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT.  61 

The  most  important  word  in  this  sentence  not  being 
a  boy's  word,  he  slurred  over,  in  his  pronunciation,  as 
if  a  little  afraid  of  it. 

"  Why  no  !  I  didn't  want  any  supper  out  there,"  said 
Brade,  laughing.  "  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about ; "  and  he  looked  over  toward  the  others,  as  if 
to  see  if  they  were  watching. 

,No  one  seemed  to  be  attending  to  thera  (Rem sen 
being  engaged  in  lively  conversation  with  one  or  more 
of  the  Latin-readers,  the  chief  speaker  of  whom  he 
called  Wadham)  ;  and  Peters,  having  apparently  satis- 
fied himself  of  the  same  foct,  said  with  great  earnest- 
ness, as  if  he  had  something  on  his  mind  or  conscience 
till  he  could  get  rid  of  it,  — 

"  They  used  to  call  it  '  succor'  when  they  went  round 
helping  everybody,  in  the  old  times,"  —  he  did  not  say 
days  of  chivalry,  —  "  but  I  mean  when  that  black  lady 
was  there.  You  wasn't  afraid  of  her,  were  you  ? " 
The  poor  fellow  was  thinking  more  of  what  he  wanted 
to  say  than  of  his  grammai*. 

"Afraid  of  her?"  asked  Brade,  imjDatiently.  "No! 
what  should  I  be  afraid  of  ?  " 

"  You  don't  believe  she's  any  thing  but  a  common 
woman  ;  do  you  ?  "  Peters  asked. 

Brade  fired  at  this.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  '  a  com- 
mon woman'  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  a  woman  with  great  power,"  answered  the 
other,  innocently,  "one  that  can  do  more  than  a  com- 
mon person.  They  were  laughing  at  me  about  chivalry ; 
but  Pd  have  dared  to  go,  if  it  had  been  necessary.  I 
would,  indeed  !  "  Peters  pleaded  as  if  his  character  or 
happiness  depended  upon  Brade's  believing  him. 

Antony's  exjiression  of  indignation  was  changed,  at 


62  ANTONY  BllADE. 

once,  for  an  expression  of  contempt,  which  Peters 
seemed  to  feel  deeply. 

"  She  can't  do  you  any  harm,  can  she  ? "  Peters 
asked. 

To  Brade,  at  this  distance  of  time  from  the  late 
scene  on  the  play-ground,  and  the  talks  with  Remsen, 
no  painful  recollections  needed  to  have  been  called  up 
by  such  a  reminder  as  this  from  Alonzo  Peters;  but 
he  seemed  now  inclined  to  be  angry  at  any  reference  to 
what  had  passed ;  and  having  turned  liis  eyes  again 
toward  the  other  boys  in  the  school-room,  as  if  to  see 
if  any  of  them  were  hearing,  he  answered  :  — 

"No!  Avhat  harm  do  you  suppose  she's  going  to  do 
me  ?  You  needn't  come  meddling  between  me  and  any- 
body." 

"  I  don't  want  to  meddle,"  said  poor  Peters,  who  was 
pitched  tipon  such  a  key  that  he  could  not  make  him- 
self understood. 

"  I  should  think  gentlemen's  sons  would  know  better 
than  to  insult  a  woman,"  said  Brade.  "  If  they  want  to 
plague  me,  they  may." 

"  Did  they  insult  her ?  "  asked  Peters.  "  That's  just 
what  the  knights  were  for,  —  to  prevent  people's  being 
insulted.  But  the  fellows  thought  she  was  a  sort  of  a 
watch,  or  a  sort  of  a  woman  with  great  power  "  — 

Brade  interrupted  him  :  — 

"  But  what  fools  they  must  be !  They're  not  babies, 
to  believe  any  such  nonsense." 

"  Well,"  said  Peters,  "  Z  did  n't  mean  to  insult  her  (you 
know  Fve  only  got  a  mother),  —  only,  if  you  wanted 
anybody  to  stand  by  you,  I  wouldn't  be  afraid."  (It 
was  strange  what  a  valorous  young  pereon  this  slight, 
large-eyed,  flaxen  stripling  professed  to  be.) 


THB  BOY'S  OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  IT.  63 

"  I  don't  want  anybody  to  stand  by  me  about  that," 
said  Brade ;  "  and  I  only  wish  not  to  hear  any  more 
about  it,  please." 

At  this  moment  they  heard  the  Tutor's  signal,  and 
became  aware  that  every  one  was  hurrying  to  his  own 
seat  for  roll-call ;  and  so  their  conference  suddenly 
ended,  with  a  hurried  request  from  Peters,  taking  Brade 
by  a  button,  — 

"  I  can  trap  with  you,  can't  I  ?  "  so  eager,  that  Brade 
laughed,  as  he  answered  that  "he  didn't  care." 

"  What  did  that  old  Peters  want?"  asked  Remsen, 
as  they  went  to  supper ;  and  when  he  heard  the  prop- 
osition about  trapping,  which  was  all  that  Brade 
reported,  objected  strongly  to  "  taking  that  moony 
fellow  in."  He  yielded,  however,  to  his  friend's  good- 
natured  mediation,  and  was  persuaded  at  last  that  they 
could  get  along  with  Peters  easily, —  a  conclusion  wliich 
he  filled  out  by  adding,  "  We  needn't  have  him  with 
lis  much,  anyhow." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

TOWNE'S  PLAN. 

Boys'  secret  plans  may  not  be  very  deep ;  but  there 
is  in  laying  them  and  carrying  them  out  often  immense 
excitement  and  profuse  concealment,  which  last,  indeed, 
sometimes  defeats  itself,  and  is  the  cause  of  discovery. 
There  are  some  boys  who  think  themselves  more  cun- 
ning than  all  the  race  of  tutors,  who  may  be  abashed 
perhaps,  and  depressed  momentarily,  by  a  discovery, 
and  then  rally  their  self-confidence  again,  and  brag  as 
before.  So,  too,  there  are  others  who  accept  these 
heroes'  estimate  of  their  own  capacity,  and  follow 
them ;  and  others  again,  who,  whether  they  believe  in 
their  leaders  or  not,  are  ready  for  a  frolic  or  a  plot,  and 
tumble  into  it  as  they  would  tumble  into  a  boat  which 
another  was  pushing  off  shore.  No  adventure  is  with- 
out attraction  for  boys.  Towne,  as  we  may  rememlier, 
had  professed  to  know  a  trick  for  discovering  the  hid- 
den relation  between  the  woman  in  black  dress  and 
Antony  Brade,  and  from  the  moment  of  its  conception 
worked  pretty  sedulously  at  it. 

Wilkins  was  one  of  the  first  of  his  confidants,  and 
enjoyed  the  enterprise  extremely.  A  good  deal  of  this 
confederate's  activity  was  bestowed  in  giving  intima- 
tions, aside,  to  boys  —  particularly  boys  larger  than 
himself — that  something  good  was  going  on.     Others, 


TOWN'S  PLAN.  65 

not  saying  much  themselves,  laughed  meaningly,  when 
spoken  to  about  the  secret,  and  gave  it  to  be  under- 
stood that  they  knew  all  about  it.  In  this  way  was 
created  a  pretty  general  expectancy  in  the  school. 
Towne  himself  was  going  about  making  requests  or 
holding  conferences,  apart,  with  different  boys,  gen- 
erally laughing  and  gesticulating  much  while  he  talked, 
and  having  the  appearance  of  being  very  busy. 

He  was  not  indiscriminate  in  these  conferences,  for  at 
the  approach  of  certain  boys  —  as  Remsen  and  others 
—  he  was  at  once  silent,  or  drew  away  his  listener. 
Tom  Hutchins  he  often  addressed,  and  was  listened  to 
a  little  loftily,  as  by  one  in  advance  of  him.  Most  of 
his  confederates  were  of  his  own  Form  or  lower.  One 
thing  very  inopportunely  interfered  with  the  devotion 
of  these  cunning  fellows  to  business,  and  very  much 
cut  up  the  spare  time  which  they  could  bestow  on 
their  preparation  for  carrying  out  the  plan,  whatever 
it  was. 

This  inconvenient  and  ill-timed  obstacle  was  the 
keej^ing-in  of  many  or  most  of  the  knowing  ones  — 
Towne  pre-eminently,  always  —  for  disorder  some- 
where or  other,  in  school  or  dormitory  or  wash-room, 
or  elsewhere  ;  for  not  knowing  lessons,  or  for  chalking 
backs,  or  kicking  other  fellows'  feet,  or  tickling  ears 
in  the  recitation-room,  or  setting  crooked  pins,  like 
Bruce's  caltrops  at  Bannockburn,  with  the  point  up,  on 
the  seat  of  an  unfortunate  fellow  reciting,  who  is  using 
all  the  wits  he  can  find  in  his  head  upon  Caesar's  ac&icsa- 
tives  and  infinitives  and  se  and  sihi,  or  the  Greek  aorist 
participle,  which  he  takes  for  a  second  person  singular. 
Day  after  day,  as  the  sun  slowly  went  down  the  western 
side  of  the  sky,  he  described  his  wide  segment  of  a 


66  ANTONY  BRADE.  ' 

circle  over  the  head  of  Towne  and  his  companions  in 
misfortune,  scattered  in  tlie  school-room  with  dreary 
faces,  sometimes  bent  over  a  book,  and  sometimes 
turned  reproachfully  at  the  unsympathizing  school- 
room clock.  The  time  had  been  when  Towne  had  tried 
the  persistent  practice  of  not  learning,  and  peraistent 
assertion  of  his  inability  to  learn  the  "  lines  "  imposed, 
quoting  his  father  and  possibly  his  grandfather  in  sup- 
port of  the  assertion  ;  but  as  this,  instead  of  bringing 
liim  an  easy  remission,  had  heaped  up  the  unlearned 
lines  unremittingly,  he  had  of  necessity  conformed 
somewhat  to  inexorable  conditions,  and  taken  to  doing 
some  reluctant  and  indignant  work  at  his  task.  He 
made  amends  (as  far  as  it  would  go)  by  complaining 
aloud,  out-doors,  when  at  length,  with  all  kept-in  boys,, 
he  was  set  free  for  the  afternoon  at  half-past  four 
o'clock. 

What  time  he  had  to  himself,  however,  ho  used 
pretty  industriously.  In  a  corner  of  the  gymnasium, 
seated  on  one  of  the  mattresses,  until  the  noise  of  foot- 
ball or  hockey  grew  too  loud  to  be  endured  passively 
by  a  boy  who  certainly  had  a  constitutional  love  of 
play,  if  he  had  not  a  constitutional  inability  to  learn 
"lines,"  he  wa.s  busy  at  "some  black  thing"  (so  it  was 
said),  and  had  a  door-keeper  to  watch  against  sudden 
intrusion.  As  may  be  snpj)osed,  few  of  the  boys  cared 
for  Sam  Towne's  secret  operations  ;  and  Blake,  of  "  Ul- 
terior-College "-notoriety,  said,  in  his  absurd  way,  that 
"  old  Towne  was  one  of  those  fellows  that  would 
climb  up  a  tree  to  get  a  good  tumble."  Almost  every- 
body would  be  content  to  wait  the  develoj)ment  of 
time  to  know  his  great  secret.  The  post  of  door- 
keeper, therefore,  even  though  it  combined  the  duties 


TOWNEES  FLAN.  67 


of  general  watch,  grew  tiresome  and  stupid,  for  there 
was  nothing  to  do  in  it.  While  things  were  in  this 
state,  on  the  second  or  third  afternoon,  the  shortening 
days  and  chilly  evenings  giving  warning  of  winter 
coming,  and  making  the  blood  in  healthy  boys  run  fast 
to  keep  warm,  Towne  was  singing  "  Dixie  "  in  his  coi- 
ner, when  Nick  Remsen  walked  quietly  in,  to  look  for 
a  hockey-stick,  which,  as  he  said,  he  had  left  there,  and 
(as  it  happened)  under  the  very  mattress  on  which 
Towne  was  sitting. 

That  industrious  fellow,  almost  before  Remsen  had 
taken  the  place  of  his  shadow  inside  the  door,  had 
managed  to  thrust  under  himself,  and  to  si^read  himself 
over,  the  greater  i>art  of  a  quantity  of  black  stuff  on 
which  he  had  been  working  with  needle  and  thread 
while  he  sang. 

The  song  he  continued,  looking  aloft  at  the  beams 
of  the  ceiling,  and  trying  to  seem  very  much  taken  up 
with  it.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  allowed  himself  to 
espy  the  intruder,  which  he  could  not  help  doing  soon, 
and  had  asked  him  the  apparently  purposeless  question, 
"  Where  he  came  from  ?  "  Towne  rolled  himself  over, 
carrying  the  mattress  over  him,  and  leaving  the  floor 
bare  for  Remsen  to  satisfy  himself  Now,  of  course, 
Remsen,  seeing  so  good  a  chance,  instantly  rolled  the 
mattress  as  far  over  as  it  would  go,  —  suppressing 
Towne  entirely  under  it,  —  and  then  put  himself  on 
top,  to  keep  him  down;  and  of  course  Towne,  like 
Enceladus  under  ^tna,  made  mighty  struggles,  Avhich 
Remsen  set  himself  to  resist.  There  is  a  wondrous 
leverage  in  the  joints  of  legs  and  arms,  which,  the  mo- 
ment Towne  could  bring  them  to  bear,  carried  mattress 
and  boy  together  right  over,  —  for  Remsen's  weight 


68  ANTONY  BRADB. 


added  to  that  of  the  mattress  was  not  much ;  but,  as 
the  mattress  fell  to  the  floor,  there  fell,  at  the  same 
moment,  Towne's  secret.  This  looked  like  a  black 
gown,  but  whether  feminine  or  academic  there  was 
scarce  time  to  see ;  for  Towne  gathered  it  hurriedly  up, 
and,  keeping  it  on  the  further  side  of  himself,  made  it 
into  a  parcel,  while  the  other  boy,  swinging  his  hockey- 
stick,  departed,  being  met  outside  by  Antony  Brade. 

At  this  juncture  the  door-keeper  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  was  sharply  reproved ;  "  for  what  business  had 
he  to  go  away  just  when  a  fellow  was  going  to  poke  his 
nose  in  where  he  wasn't  wanted  ?  "  Poor  Wilkins  (for 
he  it  was  who  was  officiating  in  the  undesirable  post  of 
watchman)  excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  "he 
hadn't  been  away  more  than  a  minute,"  and  also  that 
"  he  had  been  there  all  the  time,"  and  ended  with  the 
unanswerable  appeal,  "who  could  tell  that  a  fellow 
would  be  coming  just  then  ?  "  —  which  excuses,  as  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  and  Towne  was  not  an  absolutely 
irresponsible  despot,  with  bowstring  or  beheading-block 
at  his  service,  were  necessarily  accepted. 

Then  Towne,  taking  the  state  of  things  as  it  was, 
told  Wiikius  that  "  they  must  hurry  up  and  get  through 
with  the  job,  or  their  secret  would  be  all  found  out ; 
that  he  himself  was  not  quite  ready,  but  was  ready 
enough,  he  guessed  ;  and  now  was  the  time ! "  Wiikius 
began  at  once  to  be  impatient,  and  danced,  and  looked 
out  at  the  door  for  other  untimely  visitors.  Then,  by 
the  loader  of  the  great  secret,  three  extraordinarily  sig- 
nificant whistles  were  given,  outside  of  tlie  gymnasium, 
and  then  (having  failed  of  effect  the  first  time)  were 
repeated,  and  again  repeated,  and  again  and  again 
repeated,  until   at  length,  as  Towne  kept   marching 


TOWNS 'S  PLAN.  69 

about  like  a  bagpiper,  while  he  uttered  his  signals,  one 
boy  after  another,  as  if  just  waking  up  to  the  meaning 
of  things,  came  running  to  him,  to  the  number  of  four 
or  five,  —  for  the  most  part  pretty  small  lads. 

One  of  these  was  sent  straight  off,  with  much 
authority,  to  summon  Wadham  First,  who  was  within 
.sight,  and  the  others  were  kept  waiting  till  the  leader 
was  ready  for  them. 

Towne  advanced,  like  a  man  full  of  a  good  deal,  to 
meet  Wadham,  and  sent  the  messenger  back  to  the 
rest. 

"  Look  here,  Wadham,"  said  Towne,  "  I've  got  the 
best  thing !  I  want  you  to  get  a  black  dress  from  your 
house, — I'll  take  good  cai-e  of  it.  I'm  going  to  dress 
up  like  that  Mrs.  Ryan,  —  only  in  fun,  you  know,  — 
just  to  see  what  Bi-ade'll  do.  I  was  making  one,  but 
they  found  me  out,  and  I  don't  want  'em  to  know  it." 

Wadham,  if  not  as  enthusiastic  as  the  contriver  of 
this  scheme,  entered  into  it  with  some  spirit,  possibly 
because  he  may  have  known  the  state  of  things  at 
home.  Accordingly,  he  undertook  to  supply  what  was 
wanted ;  and  Towne,  having  pledged  him  to  secrecy,  left 
him,  to  join  his  own  followers. 

These,  with  a  lofty  summons  of  "  Come,  fellows ! "  he 
drew  off,  not  into,  but  behind  the  gymnasium,  and  there 
held  a  secret  conference  with  them,  laying  out  plans 
and  assigning  duties. 

Wilkins  (of  gentle  blood,  late  door-keeper)  claimed 
and  obtained  the  general  office  of  what  he  called 
"  peekin',"  asserting  also  that  "  a  fellow'd  got  to  know 
what  he  was  about  to  do  'peekin"  well." 

"  Now,  Wilkins,"  said  Towne,  "  you'll  have  to  be 
sharper'n   you   ever  was    in  your  life."     ("Why,  I'm 


70  ANTONY  BRADE. 


always  sharp,"  said  VVilkins.)  "  And,"  continued 
Towne,  not  heeding  this  suggestion,  "  you'll  have  to 
give  a  signal,  —  you'll  have  to  say  something  if  a  tutor 
conies.  But  Fatty  Dover's  most  importance.  Now, 
Fatty,  you've  got  to  rig  right  up,  as  soon's  the  lamp 
goes  out,  and  come  to  Royalty's  alcove,  and  walk  riglit 
in,  —  you  ain't  to  show  your  face,  remember,  —  an<l, 
quick  as  you  come  in  (I  shall  be  tliere,  you  know),  quick 
as  you  come  in,  I'll  show  the  dark  lantern  right  on  you, 
and  say, '  Why,  Mrs.  Ryan,'  or  something,  you  know, " 
be  said,  with  a  little  bashfulness,  when  he  came  to 
authorship  in  the  English  language,  however  bold  and 
self-confident  about  the  other  effort  of  his  mind,  which 
he  was  detailing.  "  I'll  say  something.  Then  you  see 
what  he'll  do."  So  said  the  author  of  this  cunning 
plan,  confidently.  Whether  one  plot  would  or  would 
not  have  differed  much  from  another,  to  their  appre- 
hension, certainly  this  seemed  to  meet  their  approval. 
Allowing  a  moment  for  his  allies  to  take  in  the  char- 
acter of  his  contrivance  at  this  culminating  point,  and 
taking  as  cheere  and  as  what  grammarians  call  "  rhe- 
torical question"  their  inquiries.  What  he  thought 
Brade  would  do  ?  would  he  fight  her  ?  or  would  he 
be  frightened  ?  he  then  went  on  to  show  how  be  had 
provided  for  all  emergencies  and  contingencies ;  how 
he  first,  and  "  P^atty  "  next,  were  to  get  out  of  Brade's 
window,  at  the  first  alarm,  and,  as  the  contriver  ex~ 
pressed  it,  "  put  for  bed,  flat-footed,  over  the  school- 
room roof," 

"But  they'll  find  that  dress,"  said  Fatty  Dover,  look- 
ing into  the  future,  as  so  many  plotters  have  done 
before. 

"  No,  they  won't  find  that  dress,"  answered  Towne. 


TOWNE'S  PLAN.  71 

"  You  strip  it  off,  like  a  duck  sheds  water,  and  chuck  it 
riglit  over  the  roof,  and  get  into  bed,  —  that's  all  you've 
got  to  do  ;  and  after  they've  gone  and  all  quiet,  I'll  go 
down  and  fetch  it.  Well,  suppose  they  did  find  it,"  he 
continued,  second  thoughts  coming  up  to  him,  "it'll 
be  fun  to  have  Wilson  hold  it  up  in  the  school-room. 
Only,"  —  here  third  thoughts  came  in,  showing  that 
our  young  friend  had  not  bad  feelings,  —  "I  wouldn't 
like  any  disrespect  of  a  respectable  woman ;  but  I've 
got  that  all  fixed  complete." 

From  the  smile  which  brightened  the  leader's  face,  as 
be  contemplated  his  own  skill  and  sure  success  in  pro- 
viding for  the  recovery  of  the  dress,  —  a  smile,  indeed, 
which  might  be  said  to  pervade  his  whole  body,  for  it 
not  only  drew  out  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  and  mouth, 
and  nose,  but  drew  his  elbows  out  also,  and  bent  his 
back  and  knees,  —  it  might  be  thought  that,  on  the 
whole,  this  last  contemplated  piece  of  cleverness  was  the 
crowning  contrivance  of  the  whole  plan. 

Tlie  allies  were  eager  to  share  in  this  part  of  the 
secret,  and  in  the  leader's  satisfaction ;  but  he  put  them 
all  off",  with  the  assurance  that  "  they'd  know,  bymby." 
Wilkins  claimed  special  confidence,  on  the  ground  that 
"  he  was  goin'  to  peek  out  for  everybody."  But  he 
teased  in  vain,  Towne  telling  him  that  if  he  used  that 
word  so  much  they'd  call  him  "  Peak  o'  Gibraltar  "  next 
(asking  if  he  wasn't  right  in  supposing  there  was  a 
Peak  of  Gibraltar).  There  were  some  things  that,  like 
a  leader,  he  knew  how  to  keep  to  himself;  and,  in  short, 
Towne  kept  his  secret,  and,  having  cautioned  Fatty 
Dover  and  the  rest  not  to  say  a  word  or  give  a  look  to 
anybody  about  the  business,  he  dismissed  them. 

Now,  having  Wilkins  alone,  he  satisfied  that  worthy 


72  ANTONY  BRADE. 


confederate's  curiosity;  for  by  this  time,  very  likely,  ho 
was  itching  to  communicate. 

"  Look  here,  Willicks,"  said  he,  "  if  this  ain't  the  best 
thing  yet.  You  know  that  old  empty  cask  the  masons 
put  there,  by  the  school-room  corner  ?  Well  "  (and  here 
he  chuckled),  "  a  fellow  that's  only  half  good  at  gym- 
nastics can  let  himself  down  off  the  roof  there,  as  easy's 
not.  But  that  ain't  all:  it's  big,  you  know;  and  I 
wouldn't  be  afraid  but  what  I  could  hide  in  there 
against  anybody,  —  if  he  wa'n't  too  near.  There  ain't 
any  moon,  now ;  and  you  know  my  gymnastic  dress  is 
all  gray.     Well,  you  can't  see  that,  in  the  night." 

"  Loose,  too,"  said  Wilkins,  "  so  you  would  not  look 
so  solid,  would  you  ?  " 

This  support  from  the  science  of  Optics,  Towne 
neither  accepted  nor  rejected,  in  words,  but  continued 
on  his  own  line:  — 

"You  know  the  rebel  cruisers  were  painted  gray,  in 
the  war,  and  our  vessels  couldn't  see  'era.  They'd  run 
right  before  their  noses,  an'  they  couldn't  see  'em.  As 
quick's  he'd  gone  by,  I'd  go  up  on  the  roof  in  a  jiffy, 
and  into  bed,  before  he'd  get  along  upstairs." 

To  most  of  us  the  American  navy  is  synonymous 
with  whatever  is  daring  and  successful ;  and  no  doubt 
these  two  American  boys  had  the  true  feeling  of  Amer- 
ican boys  toward  the  pet  and  pride  of  the  nation. 
]5ut  Wilkins  had  yet  a  standard  of  comparison  which 
held  its  own,  even  in  face  of  the  American  navy. 
"  Would  you  run  in  those  clo'es,  right  before  a 
Tootok's  nose  ?  "  he  asked. 

If  we  had  heard  this  sentence  spoken,  we  should 
veiy  likely  have  laughed  at  the  ludicrous  figure  pre- 
sented of  Towne,  in  his  athletic  suit,  capering  invisibly 


TOWNE'S  PLAN.  73 

before  the  unsuspecting  eyes  of  an  official,  or  we  sliould 
have  seized  upon  the  rhyme,  and  rung  the  changes  on 
it,  perhaps.  But  Towne  heard  it  in  the  same  sense, 
probably,  in  which  the  author  conceived  it,  and  to  him 
one  word  drew  off  the  force  of  all  the  rest.  "Yes, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  believe  but  what  I  could." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  could  before  Mr.  Bruce,"  said 
the  propounder  of  the  question,  —  "  you,  nor  nobody 
else." 

The  conversation  had  been  turned  aside  by  this  new 
element  brought  in  ;  and,  as  if  the  private  conference 
were  over,  the  two  boys  walked  away.  As  they  jjassed 
the  gymnasium  door,  a  new  turn  was  given  to  their 
thoughts ;  for  liemsen  and  Brade  were  chasing  each 
other  on  the  laddei's,  up  one,  across  another,  down  the 
third,  by  the  hands,  as  busily  and  as  noisily  as  if  their 
lives  depended  on  it. 

"  There's  liemsen  and  Royalty !  "  said  Towne.  "  I 
wonder  we  didn't  hear  'em.  I  hope  they  didn't  hear 
us,  —  there's  a  w-indow  open." 

Wilkin s  found  comfort  in  the  fact,  to  which  he  called 
his  friend's  attention,  that  the  two  boys  were  a  great 
way  off  from  the  window.  But  this  did  not  satisfy 
Towne,  who  said  that  "  boys  could  move." 

"  Let's  go  in  and  chase  'em  all  over  those  timbers,  in 
the  gymnasium,"  he  jDroposed ;  and  added,  in  a  whis- 
per, "  if  they've  been  listening,  and  heard  what  we're 
going  to  do,  you  take  Royalty  (he's  the  smallest),  and 
I'll  take  Remsen,  and  if  I  catch  him,  won't  I  — ?  "  And 
he  slapi^ed  his  thigh  with  strong  emphasis. 

The  notion  of  the  wise  contriver,  Towne,  seemed  to 
be  that  a  little  advantage  gained  over  the  two  boys 
would  keep  up  the  ascendency  of  the  great  plot.  Let 
4 


74  ANTONY  BRADE. 

us,  therefore, look  upon  the  athletic  contest  which  is  com- 
ing as  a  little  skirmishing  before  the  lines  of  the  great 
battle ;  boyish,  indeed,  but  into  which,  for  the  time,  is 
turned  the  whole  current  of  young  life. 

Wilkins  excused  himself  from  his  share,  as  not  being 
"  much  of  a  gymnast,"  and  being  obliged  to  save  "  him- 
self for  bymby,  when  he'd  have  to  be  pretty  sharp." 

"  Come  on,  old  Gray-breeclies,"  cried  Brade,  who, 
though  a  good  way  off,  seemed  to  have  overheard  the 
conversation.  "  Wilkins  is  pretty  shai-p,  and  he  won't 
try  me.  You're  the  man,  and  I'll  give  you  jjlenty  of 
chance.     I'm  so  '  small,'  you  know." 

That  epithet  "  Gray-breeches  "  might  or  might  not 
refer  to  the  "  gymnasium  suit "  which  was  to  play  an 
important  part  in  the  approaching  adventure.  Brade's 
face  did  not  show^  whether  it  had  or  had  not  any 
special  application,  for  he  w^as  full  of  excitement  for 
the  play. 

Towne,  too,  as  soon  as  Brade,  sliding  down  a  rope, 
began  to  "  dare  "  him,  set  oftj  at  the  utmost  speed  of 
longer  legs  than  Brade's,  in  pursuit. 

Then,  if  their  mothers  could  have  seen  them,  there 
would  liave  been  many  a  shriek,  and  ]>ossibIy  some 
hysterics.  Up  and  down  ladders,  up  roj^es  and  down 
ropes,  and  down  and  up  the  same  rope,  along  cross- 
beams, springing  and  catching  by  the  hands,  swinging 
up  and  catching  by  the  legs,  heels  over  head  and  bead 
over  heels,  —  what  a  race  that  was,  with  liemsen  and 
Wilkins  cheering !  llemsen,  it  must  be  confessed,  tw  ice 
to  Wilkins's  once. 

Where  length  and  strength  would  have  an  advantage, 
Towne  gained  ;  where  litheness  and  ninibhncss,  used  as 
fearlessly  as  on  flat  ground,  could  ])lay  their  lull  part, 
there  Brade  got  the  better,  for  lie  turned  faster. 


TOWNE'S  PLAN.  75 

Towne  tried  familiar  sleights,  to  lure  his  antagonist 
within  his  reach.  He  sat  up,  with  folded  arms  and 
closed  eyes,  at  a  beam's  end.  He  sat,  with  back  turned, 
in  the  middle  of  a  beam,  and  counted  aloud.  He 
asked  such  thoughtful  and  abstracted  questions  as 
whether  his  hearer,  whoever  he  might  be,  "  supposed 
there  really  ever  was  such  a  man  as  Duncigetorix,"  or 
"  What's  the  cube-root  of  a  quotient  ? "  He  busied 
himself  with  carefully  untying  and  tying  a  shoe.  By 
all  these  devices  he  got  nothing  biit  to  be  told  that  there 
was  such  a  place  as  Dunci-Towne,  and  he  had  better 
not  try  scholarship. 

Great  struggles  have  their  breathing-times ;  and 
when,  flushed  and  jjanting,  the  two  antagonists  sat 
astride  of  different  beams,  watching  each  other,  then, 
too,  Towne  offered,  like  greater  generals,  when  worsted 
or  unsuccessful,  —  like  Artaxerxes  to  the  Ten  Thou- 
sand Hellenes,  or  Pyrrhus,  the  Epirote,  to  the  Romans, 
—  that "  Royalty  "  should  give  in.  In  return  he  received 
a  shout  of  scorn,  and  a  challenge  to  reverse  the  order 
of  things :  he  might  run,  and  Brade  would  follow. 
This  he  accepted,  and  again  the  flight  and  chase  began, 
hotter  than  ever. 

Brade  got,  every  now  and  then,  near  the  shod  ends  of 
Towne's  long  legs  and  close  to  his  hands.  But  once, 
as  he  came,  in  the  eagerness  of  pursuit,  to  the  toj)  of  a 
rope  which  Towne  had  just  slid  down  and  clutched  it, 
he  swung  over,  and  falling  came  down  in  a  heap  on 
one  of  the  mattresses,  as  still  as  a  stone.  Remsen 
rushed  up  with  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  Wilkins,  too,  rushed 
up ;  and  although  Towne  held  ofi',  and  called  it  a  "  make- 
believe,"  yet  when  he  saw  the  two  syrapathizei's  in  ear- 
nest, and  the  lithe  and  handsome  boy  lying  silent  and 
helpless,  he  also  hurried  forward  to  help. 


76  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Remsen  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  the  cap  off  the 
face  over  which  it  had  been  thrust  in  the  iall,  and  Wil- 
kins  had  not  yet  thouglit  of  any  tiling  to  be  done. 
Towne  had  probably  seen  or  heard  of  such  things 
before. 

"  Stretch  him  out !  stretch  him  out ! "  said  he,  bend- 
ing over,  and  laying  hold  of  one  of  the  half-doubled 
hands  :  "  that's  the  way  they  do." 

In  an  instant  he  was  dragged  down,  and  had  taken 
Brade's  place,  receiving,  as  he  went  to  it,  two  or  three 
sharp  applications  of  the  two  friends'  handsj  such  as  he 
had  himself  intended  to  apply.  Then  Wilkins,  his  sup- 
porter, was  tumbled  down  on  top  of  him,  with  as  many 
or  more  like  applications;  and  then  Brade  made  his 
escape  by  the  door,  followed  l)y  Remsen. 

"I  knoo  he  was  only  makin'  b'lieve,"  said  Wilkins. 

"  Let  'em  go  ! "  said  Towne,  not  questioning  his  ally's 
sagacity,  but  wiping  his  own  wet  forehead  with  a  great 
colored  handkerchief  "  He  can't  try  that  dodge  again. 
Come  along,  and  I'll  show  you  something.  Look  out 
for  those  two  fellows." 

The  coast  was  clear  outside ;  and  Towne,  with  Wil- 
kins in  company,  went  warily  but  quickly  over  to  the 
hogshead. 

"  Look  here ! "  said  he,  peering  in  and  lifting  up  a 
piece  of  board,  "  I'd  squat  down  low  under  this,  and 
then,  if  anybody  should  feel  in,  he'd  think  it  was  the 
bottom,  in  the  night,  or  he'd  think  there  was  sometliing 
under  it,  and  he  wouldn't  want  to  feel  down.  IIullo! 
there's  some  water!  it's  good  I  saw  it.  Villicks,  you 
pour  it  out,  while  I  look  out  for  those  two  fellows." 

Wilkins  proceeded  with  alacrity  to  liis  task,  but 
made  no  more  impression  upon  the  strongly  grounded 


TOWNE'S  PLAN.  77 

hogshead  than  he  might  have  made  upon  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius,  by  pulling  at  one  side  of  it.  Then  Towne 
gave  his  length  of  arm  and  weight  of  body  to  the 
work ;  and  then  the  two  together  soon  brought  the 
further  chines  of  the  huge  vessel  over,  and,  as  they  got 
it  to  a  balance,  Towne  cautioned  his  far-descended 
friend  "  not  to  let  it  come  down  too  hard,  or  they 
would  have  Mr.  Stout  after  them,  for  he  was  in  the 
barn." 

Slowly  and  wisely  they  v/ere  lowering  it,  —  Towne, 
with  successive  mechanical  appliances,  was  at  the  same 
time  working  and  teaching.  They  were  standing  now 
at  that  angle  at  which  Atlas  is  represented  in  his  most 
authentic  portrait,  where  his  great  hands  grasp  his 
knees  and  prop  his  body,  on  which  the  world  is  resting. 
The  boys'  hands  were  at  the  level  of  their  knees,  on 
which  the  lower  lip  of  the  hogshead  was  resting,  while 
the  experienced  Towne  was  showing  his  subordinate 
how  "they  were  going  to  lower  it  to  its  side  so 
softly  it  wouldn't  break  a  robin's  cgg,^''  when,  without 
the  slightest  warning,  while  the  boys  were  thus  stoop- 
ing,—  one  talking  and  one  listening,  as  they  worked, — 
the  storm-house  door,  close  by,  burst  open,  a  rush  was 
made,  "  Oppidura ! "  cried  Brade's  voice,  and  down 
upon  the  most  prominent  and  exposed  part  of  each 
laboring  workman  fell  a  flat  blow,  loud  and  far- 
resounding.     The  effect  was  instantaneous. 

"  Outch ! "  cried  Wilkins,  at  his  share  of  the  infliction. 
"  Hold  on  !  "  said  Towne,  in  spite  of  his.  But  at  the 
word  the  hogshead  went  heavily  to  the  earth,  rolled 
swashing  and  lumbering  down  the  little  slope,  gained 
"Strength  with  going,  broke  short  off  at  the  ground  one 
weakly  clothes-post,  and  laid  it  low  with  a  crash,  then, 


78  ANTONY  DRADE. 


sidling  round,  was  making  across  the  green  for  another, 
with  a  hollow  rumbling,  that  sounded  as  if  it  enjoyed 
mischief.  Towne  and  Wilkins,  with  one  glance,  seeing 
most  likely  from  the  beginning  what  was  likely  to  be  the 
end,  followed  the  two  aggressors,  overtook  Brade,  whom 
they  treated  as  he  had  served  thera,  and  could  not 
overtake  Remsen,  who  in  running  easily  kept  out  of 
reach.  As  Mr.  Stout  came  from  the  barn,  with  a  quiet 
but  quick  and  business-like  step,  to  the  late  scene  of 
action,  Towne  and  his  follower  began  to  come  back, 
having  evidently  no  intention  of  running  away. 

Mr.  Stout  was  a  tliin,  middle-ag(Ml  man,  with  a  strong 
New  England  face.  He  walked  Avith  a  hitch  in  his  step, 
as  if  from  rheumatism. 

Now  he,  having  cast  a  look  after  the  riotous  hogshead, 
and  also  called  to  it  to  "  stop  when  it  got  ready  to," 
proceeded  to  the  broken  and  overthrown  post,  lifted  its 
lower  end,  and  gave  a  short  glance  at  the  break,  and 
ended  by  a  nod  of  the  head.  The  vagrant  hogshead 
had  by  this  time  missed  the  other  clothes-posts  and 
brought  up,  lengthwise,  against  a  bank  of  eartli.  Mr. 
Stout  called  to  Towne  and  Wilkins. 

"I  want  you  boys  should  bring  that  cask  back,  as 
fast  as  it  went  away,  and  set  it  uj)  just  where  it  came 
from."  And  this  he  said  like  a  man  that  was  nccus- 
tomed  to  do  what  he  ought  to  do  himself,  and  have 
other  people  do  what  they  ought  to  do. 

"  I'll  do  it,  Mr.  Stout,"  answered  Towne,  with  great 
alacrity. 

"  And  when  you've  got  it  there,  I  want  you  should 
leave  it  there,"  contiiiued  that  definite  man. 

"Mr.  Stout!"  said  Towne,  "  we  didn't  roll  it  down 
at  all,  sir :  all  we  did  was,  we  tipped  it  down  just  as 


TOWNE'S  PLAN.  79 

carefully  as  we  could,  or  as  anybody  could,  —  I  don't 
care  who  he  is,  —  we  did,  really." 

"  Yes,  that's  plain  to  be  seen,"  said  Mr.  Stout,  grimly, 
as  he  set  up  the  late  involuntary  agent  of  mischief 
firmly  on  its  broad  base  again.  "You  found  him  here 
so  dreadful  uneasy  and  mischievous,  and  thrasliing  all 
round,  you  thought  you'd  just  lay  him  down  where  he'd 
be  quiet.  I  see  all  that  plain  enough.  But  now,  boys, 
I  want  you  should  let  it  stand  where  I  put  it,  and  I 
guess  it'll  take  about  as  good  care  of  itself  as  you'll 
take  care  of  it." 

"We  will,"  said  Towne,  leading  off.  "Yes,  we  will," 
added  Wilkins.  Then,  turning  back,  the  leader  asked, 
"Do  you  want  us  to  put  that  water  in  again,  that  was 
spilt  ?  " 

"  No,  —  I  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Stout,  with  a  pause  be- 
fore the  thanks. 

Towne  led  off  again,  saying  aside  to  Wilkins,  "  All 
we  wanted  was  to  get  the  water  out.  Let's  go  and  have 
a  turn  at  shinney."     And  they  ran  off. 

As  they  disappeared,  the  other  two  came  up  hastily, 
after  stopping  to  confer  a  little  on  the  way,  and  caught 
Mr.  Stout  half  way  back  to  the  barn  again.  Brade 
])lanted  himself  in  front  of  the  busy-looking  man,  and 
with  a  strongly  persuasive  look  in  his  face,  and  holding 
by  the  front  of  Mr.  Stout's  waistcoat,  and  being  drawn 
along,  he  said,  — 

"  ]N[r.  Stout !  Mr.  Stout !  Won't  you  put  that  water 
in  again,  with  your  hose  ?  and  M'on't  you  let  us  see 
you?     Do,  Mr.  Stout!   won't  you?" 

"  Boys  are  very  good  at  asking  for  what  they  want, 
don't  you  think  tlioy  be?"  said  Mr.  Stout,  walking  on, 
as  straitj'ht  :is  he  could. 


80  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  The  engine's  pumping  now,"  urged  the  hoy. 

"And  we'll  see  how  long  it  takes  to  fill  it  half  full 
with. the  hose,"  said  Remsen,  adding  an  inducement  to 
Mr.  Stout's  curiosity. 

'■'■May  Ave?"  asked  Brade,  shaking  the  front  of  the 
waistcoat  which  he  held. 

"  We  never  saw  it  go  ;  and  I've  got  a  watch,"  said 
Remsen,  continuing  the  line  of  his  appeal.  "  Oh  !  do 
now,  Mr.  Stout ! " 

"  S'pose  I  should,  what's  the  great  huny  ?  "  asked  the 
man,  used  to  boys. 

"  We  want  to  do  it  before  the  other  fellows  come," 
said  Remsen. 

Mr.  Stout  during  all  this  urgency  did  not  change  a 
muscle  of  his  face,  and  now,  with  the  same  unchanged 
look,  he  brought  the  colloquy  to  a  happy  end,  by  say- 
ing,— 

"  Well,  there's  no  getting  away  from  boys  ; "  and  he 
turned  and  walked  back  with  them,  amid  their  profuse 
thanks. 

Brade  was  stationed  near  the  corner  of  the  laundry, 
to  watch  and  give  wai-ning;  and  Remsen  took  upon 
him  to  handle  the  hose. 


CHAPTER   VHI. 

ON   THE  EDOE   OF  IT. 

Time  was  going  on  :  the  dark  evening  was  drawing 
near,  and  with  it  that  ehill  was  closing  in,  which  seems 
to  wait  a  little  way  off  for  twilight.  Tiie  shouts  and 
cries  of  boys  engaged,  not  far  away,  "  at  shinney  "  or 
"hockey,"  came  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  while 
Brade  stood  anxiously  on  watch,  and  Remsen  impa- 
tiently coaxed  the  utmost  out  of  the  hose.  Just  as  the 
quarter-bell  before  tea  began  to  ring,  Remsen  gave 
a  shout  of  success,  to  which  Brade  answered. 

Towne  had  not  stopped  to  look  on  at  hockey,  but  had 
with  all  his  might,  and  with  his  friend  behind  liini,  gone 
in  for  a  share  in  that  eager  jjlay.  With  no  fear  of  con- 
sequences, he  rushed  into  the  thick  of  the  game,  Avhile 
Wilkins,  acting  like  a  fellow  who  had  knowledge 
enough  of  anatomy  to  know  where  his  own  sliins  were, 
and  liad  sense  enough  to  take  care  of  them,  kept  well 
outside. 

On  his  way  to  the  wash-room,  and  afterward,  on  his 
way  to  tea,  Towne  was  a  little  noisy  and  exultant  over 
some  "  high  old  time  "  that  he  was  going  to  have.  He 
and  Wilkins  each  got  a  few  "  lines"  for  disorder  at  the 
table;  and  in  the  school-room,  after  tea,  "lines"  fell 
upon  them  and  others  of  their  allil's  from  time  to  time, 
for  idleness  and  whispering,  and  j^assing  notes ;  and 
4* 


82  ANTONY  DRADE. 

when,  at  last,  the  signal  for  First  Bedtime  was  given, 
Towne  and  Wilkins  and  Fatty  Dover  were  all  called 
back  and  received  a  few  more  lines  for  disorder  in 
huri-ying  out  of  the  school-room. 

"Never  mind,  fellows,"  said  Towne,  partly  in  a  loud 
whisper,  and  partly  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  saw  the  const 
clear  of  the  departing  tutor,  "now  for  it !  You,  Fatty, 
must  get  your  dress  on  as  soon  as  the  light's  out  in  the 
dormitory,  and  tutor  all  gone.  I'll  give  the  signal  this 
way  :  '  Ahem  I  ahem ! '  You'll  have  to  be  listening,  for 
it  won't  be  loud,  but  just  the  way  you  heard,  — '  ahem  ! 
ahem! '  Nobody'U  ever  suspect  that ;  "  and,  to  do  him 
justice,  the  signal  had  a  very  innocent  sound.  But 
Fatty  Dover  was  in  a  condition  to  need  stiffening.  He 
did  not  seem  to  himself  at  all  calculated  to  carry  out 
the  chief  part. 

"'Tain't  the  chief  part,"  said  Towne;  and  as  Dover 
objected  that  Towne  had  told  him  it  was,  he  was 
assured  by  the  leader  that  "  it  was  the  principal  part, 
but  it  hadn't  got  any  talking,  and  it  wa'n't  dangerous, 
for  he,  the  leader,  was  to  be  in  there,  and  he  was  the 
only  one  that  had  got  any  thing  to  say." 

The  irresolute  subordinate  objected  that  "  it  was 
close  by  Mr.  Cornell's  door." 

"Do  you  s'pose  I  haven't  looked  out  for  that?"  asked 
Towne,  scornfully.  "  What  sort  of  a  fellow  should  I 
be  to  manage  things,  if  I  didn't  know  enough  to  look 
out  for  that?  Mr.  Cornell's  going  out,  and  he's  going 
to  be  out  the  whole  evening.  I  heard  him  say  so  to 
Mr.  Bruce." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Wilkins.  Others  confirmed  this 
statement. 

"  You've  only  got  to  be  spunky ! "  said  Wilkins,  whose 


ON  THE  EDGE   OF  IT.  83 

blood  of  generations  was  in  a  glow.  "  Why,  I've  got 
to  be  peekin'  out  all  the  time,  and  that's  more  danger- 
ous tlian  any  thing  else,  ain't  it,  Towne  ?  " 

Without  heeding  this  question,  in  the  press  of  his 
duties,  Towne  gave  or  repeated  his  hurried  directions. 
"  There's  the  five-minute  bell !  "  said  he.  "  Now  remem- 
ber !  You,  Fatty,  get  ready,  as  soon  as  the  lamp  goes 
out,  and  start  out  when  I  give  the  signal,  and  come 
right  to  Brade's  alcove  ;  and,  Wilkins,  you  come  out  by 
Mr.  Cornell's  door,  and  watch ;  and,  if  you  hear  any 
stirring,  ask  if  you  may  go  and  get  a  drink;  and, 
Fatty,  that's  the  signal ;  quick's  you  hear  that,  follow 
me  right  out  the  Avindow,  and  then  shut  the  window 
down,  and  along  the  roof,  just  the  way  we've  been 
doing  ;  and,  Leavitt,  you  and  Ransom  have  got  to  make 
sure  and  light  a  light  in  the  wash-room,  as  quick  as  the 
tutor's  gone,  and  be  washing  away  there  hke  every 
thing,  —  all  over  your  heads.  There!  there!"  said  he, 
summarily  bringing  his  instructions  to  an  end,  as  the 
tutor  called  out,  "Towne  !  Dover!  Wilkins!  Ransom! 
Leavitt!  Tarleton!  late!" 

Towne  tried  the  jiersuasiveness  of  words,  and  began 
pleading  that  "  he  had  had  something  very  particular 
to  say  to  those  boys,  and  they  didn't  know  how  time 
went."  But  this  well-devised  though  not  strictly  orig- 
inal |)]n-ase  fell  flat,  and  answered  no  good  purpose  : 
the  leader  and  his  followers  were  liurried  away  to  their 
alcoves,  and  left  to  find  comfort  in  the  coming  success 
of  their  scheme.  In  due  course  the  lamp  was  put  out, 
and  the  tutor  departed. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  DOING. 

Whoever  has  lifted  the  curtains  of  boys'  alcoves, 
Boon  after  their  inmates  have  gone  to  bcfl,  and  has 
looked  lovingly  in,  has  seen  a  pretty  sight.  Generally, 
the  faces  are  lying  most  restfully,  with  hand  under 
cheek,  and  in  many  cases  look  strangely  younger  than 
when  awake,  and  often  very  infantile,  as  if  some  trick 
of  older  expression,  which  they  had  been  taught  to 
wear  by  day,  had  been  dropped  the  moment  the  young 
ambitious  will  had  lost  control.  The  lids  lie  shut  over 
bright,  busy  eyes  ;  the  air  is  gently  and  evenly  fanned 
by  coming  and  going  breaths  ;  there  is  a  little  crooked 
mound  in  tlie  bed  ;  along  the  bed's  foot,  or  ©n  a  chair 
beside  it,  are  the  day-clothes,  sometimes  neatly  folded, 
sometimes  huddled  off,  in  a  hurry  ;  bulging  with  balls, 
or,  in  the  lesser  fellows,  marbles ;  stained  with  the  earth 
of  many  fields  where  woodchucks  have  been  trapped, 
or  perhaps  torn  with  the  rouglmesses  of  trees  on  which 
squirrels'  holes  have  been  sought ;  perhaps  wet  and 
mired  with  the  smooth  black  or  gray  mud  from 
marshes  or  the  oozy  banks  of  streams,  where  musk- 
rats  have  been  tracked.  Under  the  bed's  foot,  after  a 
hard  share  in  all  the  play  and  toil  of  the  day,  lie  the 
shoes,  —  one  on  its  side,  —  with  the  gray  and  white 
socks,  now  creased  and  soiled,  thrown  across  them ;  a 


THE  DOING.  85 


cross  is  at  the  head,  some  illuminated  text  at  the  si<le ; 
and  there,  in  their  little  cells,  squared  in  the  great  mass 
of  night,  heedless  how  the  earth  whirls  away  with 
them  or  how  the  world  rroes.  who  is  thinkinsr  of  them 
or  what  is  doing  at  home,  the  busiest  people  in  the 
world  are  resting  for  the  morrow. 

All  was  still,  that  night,  after  the  Tutor's  going. 
Then,  as  the  great  constellations,  made  up  of  tremen- 
dous worlds,  and  the  huge  separate  glowing  stars,  were 
all  going  through  their  vast  turning  in  the  boundless 
emptiness  of  space,  so  the  lesser  plan  of  Towne  began 
its  working  in  the  Lower  Dormitory  at  St.  Bart's. 

Scarcely  had  all  grown  still,  when  two  sounds,  by  no 
means  noisy,  from  the  throat  of  the  leader,  announced 
to  the  associates  in  enterprise  and  peril  that  the  work 
was  to  begin.  A  flash  of  light  might  have  been  seen  in 
the  dormitory,  and  possibly  something  like  a  chuckle  from 
some  young  voice  was  followed  by  another  chuckle  from 
another  young  voice.  As  the  light  lasted,  many  cm- 
tains  were  shaken,  and  many  faces  appeared  looking 
out  from  them  as  suddenly  as  flashes  of  northern  lights 
show  themselves  all  over  the  side  of  the  sky.  All  in 
the  same  moment  came  a  cry  of  alarm  from  the  upjier 
end  of  the  dormitory,  something  like,  "  Get  out,  you!" 
and  in  that  part  might  be  seen,  by  a  dim  light  prevailing 
there,  a  female  figure  in  black  dress  and  hat,  retreating 
preci{)itately  from  a  counterpart  female  figure  in  ghastly 
white  dress  and  hat,  precisely  like,  in  shape  and  making, 
to  the  other,  though  on  a  somewliat  larger  scale. 

In  another  moment  the  black  female  had  scrambled 
away  from  before  the  white,  and  disappeared  behind 
the  curtain  of  an  alcove,  from  which  came  forth 
repeated  cries  of,  "Keep  it  ofi"!  keep  it  ofl"!" 


86  ANTONY  DRADE. 


All  this  could  not  be  gone  through  with  without 
excitement,  as  indeed  what  street  is  there,  in  what 
town,  wliere  a  scene  like  this  could  be  enacted,  with 
faces  on  all  sides  looking  out  upon  it  from  windows, 
without  a  good  deal  of  excitement  ?  Curtains  were 
suddenly  drawn  aside,  and  now  a  gathering  of  young 
.  figures  in  long  Avhite  dresses  began  to  take  place  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  the  white  counterpart  of  the 
woman  in  black  having  disappeared  as  effectually  as 
the  black  figure.  There  Avas  still  a  faint  light  at  the 
upper  end  where  the  two  apparitions  had  been. 

The  elder  boys  were  asking  and  answering  questions, 
with  here  and  there  a  little  fellow  standing  near ;  but, 
of  the  small  boys,  most  stood  in  the  doorways  of  their 
alcovei*,  holding  the  curtains  aside  and  looking  forth 
with  curiosity  or  apprehension. 

Even  the  younger  boys  at  school  learn  a  good  deal 
of  self-control ;  and  therefore  none  of  these  committed 
himself,  hastily,  by  words.  Two  or  three  seemed  to 
understand  the  Avhole  thing,  and  were  laughing  heartily, 
and  trying  to  keeji  down  the  sound. 

One  voice  was  heard,  but  half-restrained,  exclaiming, 
"What  a  fool  that  fellow  is,  to  be  frightened!  He 
thought  it  was  a  ghost,  most  likely ;  and  ghosts  have 
been  dead  these  thousand  years,  —  there  ain't  any  now  ! " 
And  so,  venting  his  indignation,  the  owner  of  tliis 
voice  was  walking  up  towards  the  light  which  still 
burned  at  the  upper  end,  when  all  at  once  there  was  a 
general  flutter  and  dispersion  of  the  small  boys;  tlie 
light  went  out,  a  tone  of  authority  was  heard,  close  by 
the  side  of  this  malcontent,  saying,  "  Towne,  go  to  Mr. 
Cornell's  door,  and  wait  there  !  "  and  a  whining  sort  of 
appeal  from  a  third  voice,  "  Mr.  Bruce,  sir !  please,  sir, 


THE  DOING.  87 


may  I  go  and  get  a  drink?"  at  which  there  was  a 
many-throated  laugh  of  derision  from  curtained  alcoves 
at  the  untinieliness  of  this  request.  Towne,  also, 
laughed  a  short  laugh,  as  he  walked.  IMoreover,  while 
these  things  were  going  on,  all  at  once  the  largei-  boys 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor  at  the  same  moment  were 
saying,  "  We  didn't  have  any  thing  to  do  with  it,  sir  ;  we 
only  came  out  to  see  what  was  going  on,"  and  were 
told  mildly  to  go  to  their  alcoves,  and  thereui^on  dis- 
])ersed. 

Mr.  Bruce  had  lighted  a  candle  which  he  carried,  and 
went  straight  to  the  alcove  in  which  the  black  figure 
had  disappeared,  and  from  which  the  cries  of  terror 
had  come,  but  which  Avas  now  as  silent  as  all  the 
others. 

"Dover!"  said  he,  drawing  aside  the  curtain;  and 
Dover,  in  his  usual  voice,  answered.  All  around  was 
altogether  still. 

"  What  were  you  making  all  that  noise  about  ?  "  asked 
the  Tutor. 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  making  a  noise,"  said  Dover. 

"I  judge  it  was  you  by  the  voice,"  Mr.  Bruce  said, 
"  calling,  '  Get  out ! '  or  something  like  it." 

"  I  was  frightened,  sir,"  answered  Dover,  treading 
along  the  dizzying  brink  of  discovery,  if  not  with  strong 
and  dauntless  stride,  yet  Avith  unexpectedly  firm  step, 
if  one  might  judge  by  his  voice. 

The  Tutor  bade  Dover  coine  to  liim  after  breakfast, 
and  in  the  mean  time  to  keep  his  bed  and  go  to  sleep; 
and  then  went  across  the  dormitory  to  the  opposite 
alcove.  Here  Remsen  was  in  bed,  and,  like  a  sensible 
fellow,  was  not  making-believe  to  be  asleep ;  and  near 
the  curtain,  as  the  candle  showed,  was  standing  our 


ANTONY  DIIADE. 


young  friend  Antony,  looking  somewhat  sheepish,  but 
quite  as  mucli  amused  at  the  recognition. 

Mr.  Bruce  did  not  smooth  the  front  of  author- 
ity:  — 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  to  speak  to  you  "  (Brade,  though 
he  said  nothing  and  looked  down,  had  certainly  not  a 
very  guilty  expression).  "  You  know  it's  a  very  serious 
offence,  Brade,"  he  said,  "to  be  found  in  anotlier's 
alcove." 

Young  Brade  looked  up,  ready  to  speak,  but  did  not 
interrupt.     The  Tutor  paused. 

"I  diclnH  come  to  anybody's  alcove,  sir,"  he  answered. 

"  Of  course  you  know  what  you're  saying,"  said  Mr. 
Bruce.  "You  were  in  Remsen's  alcove  a  minute  ago: 
do  you  mean  to  say  you  were  brought  there  ?" 

The  boy  stood  in  his  long  white  night-gown,  with 
his  bare  feet  on  the  bare  floor,  half  full  of  fun,  half  full  of 
fear. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  not  that,"  said  Antony.  "  But  I  mean 
I  didn't  come  up  the  dormitory  to  go  to  anybody's 
alcove :  I  only  ran  in  there  to  hide  aAvay." 

Mr.  Bruce's  voice  changed,  decidedly  for  the  softer, 
and  doubtless  his  face  showed  as  great  a  change. 

"  Come  to  me  immediately  after  breakfast,"  he  said, 
as  he  had  said  to  Dover.  "  Now  go  to  bed  instantly, 
Brade,  and  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  possible." 

Before  the  words  were  well  spoken,  Brade,  in  his 
white  night-gown,  Avas  scampering  down  to  the  other 
end,  and  across  the  dormitory. 

Mr.  Bruce  looked  into  each  alcove  as  he  went  down,  and 
then  up  the  other  side.  Towne,  meanwhile,  danced  and 
took  different  attitudes,  as  if  to  keep  himself  warm 
and  occujjied,  at  his  tiresome  post.   At  length  the  Tutor 


THE  DOING.  89 


came  back  and  found  time  to  attend  to  him,  making 
this  little  address :  — 

"Now,  Towne,  it's  very  unpleasant  to  find  you  at  the 
bottom  of  all  the  mischief  that's  going  on," 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  is,  sir,"  said  Towne.  "  You  only 
found  me  walking  along  the  dormitory  as  peaceable  as 
could  be." 

"  Where  do  you  belong^  sir  ? "  asked  the  Tutor, 
sharply. 

"  In  Brunswick,  sir.  !N"o,  I  wasn't  thinking,  sir :  my 
alcove's  "  — 

"  Twenty  lines  for  impertinence !  (Not  a  word,  sir !) 
Go  straight  to  your  alcove,  and  don't  be  found  out  here 
again,"  said  the  Tutor. 

"  I  won't,  if  I  can  help  it,  sir,"  answered  poor  Towne. 
"  I  didn't  mean  "  — 

"  Not  a  word,  sir!  "  said  Mr.  Bruce ;  and  Towne  went 
away,  with  an  inarticulate  murmur,  to  his  place.  The 
Tutor,  having  seen  all  safe,  went  his  way. 

When  the  flap  of  the  spring-door,  at  the  further  wash- 
room, showed  that  he  was  out  of  hearing,  Towne  exulted 
as  loudly  as  he  dared,  that,  by  that  cunning  trick  of 
impertinence,  he  had  made  Mr.  Bruce  forget  to  tell  him 
to  come  after  breakfast. 

Mr.  Cornell's  door  was  ajar,  as  it  had  been  all  the 
evening,  with  a  light  shining  through ;  but  no  change 
had  taken  place  there  implying  that  the  occupant  had 
come  in.  Mr.  Bruce  had  left  every  thing,  outwardly,  as 
it  ought  to  be.  The  dormitory  had  taken  on  again  the 
stillness  of  night,  broken  very  slightly  by  what  seemed  to 
be  calls  from  one  side  to  the  other  at  the  upper  end.  The 
adventures  of  the  night  were  not  over,  however,  for  that 
unrestful  place  of  rest.     Towne's  alcove  and  Dover's 


90  ANTONY  BRADE. 

adjoined  each  other ;  Towne's  being  the  uppermost,  on 
the  right  hand,  on  that  floor.  Between  those  two  went 
a  loud  whispering,  growing  often  to  a  deeper  voice. 

"I  want  to  go  to  sleep,"  said  Dover,  at  last,  a  little 
more  loudly ;  "  and  Mr.  Bruce  told  me  to.  I  chucked 
'em  over  on  to  the  ground,"  he  added  peevishly ;  but 
the  other's  success  in  pulling  the  wool  over  one  tutor's 
eyes  made  him  anxious  for  further  adventures. 

"  Good  boy ! "  said  Towne,  patronizingly.  "  If  you're 
afi-aid,  I  ain't :  so  here  goes !  " 

A  voice  from  the  opposite  side  came  across  the  six- 
foot  alley- way,  sounding  like  Ulterior  Blake's:  — 

"  I  say,  Oppidura,  you  daresn't  go  out !  Mr,  Cornell 
'11  snap  you  up.  He'll  be  just  coming  home,  humming 
a  toone,  just  now,  and  he'll  snap  you  up  just  as  a  toad 
does  a  fly.  I'll  bet  you  two  cents  you  don't  dares't  to 
go  out ! " 

No  answer  came  from  Towne,  though  the  speech  was 
intelligible,  if  not  good  English.  In  the  stillness  which 
followed,  a  window  might  have  been  hoard  slowly  open- 
ing. Immediately  a  boy  came  from  the  opposite  alcoves, 
and,  in  a  whispered  shout,  called  out :  — 

"Fellows!  fellows!  'Look  out  on  the  roof!  Towne's 
gone  out,  in  invisible  clo'es,  to  dodge  Mr.  Cornell! 
Won't  there  be  fun ! " 

"It's  dark  as  Erebus!  "said  a  very  assured  voice, 
louder  than  the  rest,  as  many  windows  were  hastily 
thrown  up.  ^'■Ovdsv  ovr'  dxovaai  o'vt  idnv  iari.  Remsen, 
how  do  you  expect  us  to  see?" 

"Hear  that  fellow!"  said  another.  "I  say,  Gaston, 
do  keep  your  "  — 

"  Fellows !  fellows  ! "  said  another  voice,  which  was 
certainly  our  friend  Brade's,  almost  bursting  with  fun 


THE  DOING.  91 


and  excitement,  as  he  ran  by  several  alcoves,  "  Towne 
has  gone  out  there  to  run  before  Mr.  Cornell  in  his 
gymnasium  suit,  so  that  he  shouldn't  see  him  ; "  making 
pretty  clear,  in  spite  of  the  confusion  of  personal  pro- 
nouns, that  Towne  had  gone  out  on  the  roof  to  execute 
some  daring  and  hazardous  feat  of  activity,  with  wliich 
Mr.  Cornell,  the  Tutor,  was  in  some  way  associated. 
There  was  a  stir  and  flurry  on  all  sides.  Objections 
and  hasty  discussions  took  place  in  several  alcoves  on 
the  school-room  side,  as  between  boys  wanting  to  go 
through  and  boys  not  willing  to  let  them. 

"Fellows!  you'll  catch  your  death  o' cold !  What's 
the  use  ?  "  said  some  elder,  gravely,  probably  the  delib- 
erate Blake. 

Then  a  more  authoritative  voice :  — 

"  Thompson !  Mason  !  Lawrence !  don't  let  those  little 
fellows  out  on  the  roof!  Do  make  'em  go  back  to  bed  !  " 
And,  in  compliance  with  this  exhortation,  Brade,  Ran- 
som, Leavitt,  and  others,  were  called  by  name,  as  if 
already  on  the  roof,  and  bidden  (witliout  apparent 
effect)  to  go  to  bed. 

"  We've  got  blankets  round  us,"  answered  several 
voices.     "Russell  better  come  out  himself." 

Meanwhile,  from  the  slight  niurmur  to  be  heard  ont- 
sid-^  the  windows,  and  the  low  cries  of  "  Look  out ! " 
"  Isn't  it  dark?"  "  Don't  walk  off"!"  it  might  be  known 
that  many  boys  had  got  through  all  difficullics  to  be 
near  Towne's  feat.  Cold  liad  not  stoppe<l  them  ;  dark- 
ness had  not  stopped  them ;  and  there  they  were. 

"  Sh  !  —  sh  !  "  — was  cried,  to  enforce  silence  ;  Remsen, 
as  before,  explaining  that  there  was  going  to  be  great 
fun. 

"Have  you  got  it?"  whispered  a  voice,  somewhere 
in  the  darkness  below  the  common  level. 


92  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"Yes!"  answered  another,  somewhere  in  the  same 
direction,  speaking  in  his  ordinary  tone,  and  therefore 
easily  recognized  as  Towne,  and  going  on  like  a  hero, 
as  he  evidently  felt  himself. 

"Now  don't  I  wish  Mr.  Cornell  was  about  three  rods 
off!  —  but  it's  cold,  I  tell  you ! " 

The  words  reminded  some  of  the  others  that  their 
clothes  were  thin,  and  they  began  to  move;  but  the 
boys'  proverb  about  the  nearness  of  a  person  talked  of 
was  strikingly  illustrated  on  this  occasion,  as  on  so 
many  others.  A  good,  manly  tenor  voice,  a  little  way 
off,  was  heard  singing  "  Days  of  Absence." 

"  Mr.  Cornell !  Mr.  Cornell ! "  was  the  cry.  "  Down  ! " 
and  some  were  heard  fleeing;  and  some  were  heard 
going  down  on  the  tin  roof,  with  a  sudden  thud ;  and 
some  were  heard  struggling  with  laughter. 

"Sh! —  sh!" —  said  that  fearless  and  eager  lad, 
Remsen,  again,  going  about.  "  Hold  on  !  Towne  hasn't 
got  through  yet,"  and  the  audience  was  still  enough  to 
catch  the  iixintest  sound. 

Feet  without  shoe-soles  scurried  over  the  ground 
below. 

"Sh!"  said  the  same  eager  lad.     "  Now  look  out!' 
sh!" 

There  was  a  sort  of  scramble  down  there  below, 
where  Towne  seemed  to  be,  and  then  a  splash  !  with  a 
suppressed  shuddering  "  Oh-h-h  !  "  and  Towne  had  evi- 
dently met  with  a  sudden  surprise. 

A  roar  of  laughter  started  from  many  of  the  boys  on 
the  roof,  suppressed  as  soon  as  possible,  and  as  much  as 
possible,  but  beginning,  as  hearty  and  genuine  laughter 
will,  to  spread. 

"  Get  under  the  cover,  Towne  !  get  under  the  cover!  " 


THE  DOING.  93 


said  Brade,  his  voice  scarcely  recognizable,  for  trembling 
so  with  laughter, 

"  You  better  hold  your  clack,  Royalty,  or  I'll  crack 
your  crown  !  "  retorted  the  poor  fellow,  splashing. 

"  How  do  you  suppose  that  water  got  back  ?  "  asked 
a  quavering  voice.     "  'Tain't   rained,  has   it  ?  " 

This  sounded  like  Wilkins. 

"  Wilkins,  why  didn't  you  let  that  water  out  ?  "  said 
Rerasen. 

Down  below,  the  state  of  things  had  changed  within 
a  few  seconds  essentially.  Towne,  whose  leaj:*  to  the 
back  of  his  great  adventure  (to  use  a  figure),  had  been 
so  vigorous  and  masterful,  now —  soused  in  chilly  water 
—  was  not  the  same  boy.  His  stout  and  tutor-defying 
voice  was  changed. 

"  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stay  here  and  freeze  !  1  don't  care 
if  he  does  catch  me  !  "  he  muttered.  "  I'll  give  it  to 
somebody  for  this  ! "  and  then  a  floundering,  and  the 
brattle  of  the  water  in  the  cask,  —  cold-sounding 
enough  to  make  the  very  listeners  shudder,  —  implied 
that  the  unexpectedly  immersed  hero  Avas  retreating 
from  his  position. 

"  It  is  written,"  said  Gaston's  voice,  "  that  the  Greek 
philosopher  lodged  in  his  cask ;  but,  as  Towne  ain't  a 
Greek  philosopher,  I  don't  see  what  ho  wants  to  take 
up  his  habitation  in  a  hogshead  for." 

Strangely  enough  there  was  no  interference  of  the 
much-talked  of  Mr.  Cornell. 

"  Are  you  visible,  Towne  ?  "  Brade  asked. 

"  I'll  visible  you ! "  said  the  interrupted  adventurer. 

"He  can't  see  you  in  that  gray  suit,"  said  Remsen. 
"Look  out,  fellows,  if  you  don't  want  to  get  spattered, 
if  he  comes  up.     Mr.  Cornell  wa'n't  there  at  all,"  he 


94  ANTONY  BRADE. 


continued,  confidentially  turning  to  tliose  near  hiiii. 
"  That  was  Lawrence :  we  got  him  to  sing  like  Mr. 
Cornell." 

But  now  a  new  element  came  in. 

"  Towne ! "  cried  Mr.  Bruce's  voice,  which  had  been 
heard  so  often  that  evening,  and  which  now  came, 
not  from  the  ground,  but  from  one  of  the  dormitory 
windows,  showing  that  he  had  stolen  a  march  upon  the 
absent  inmates.  The  boys  on  the  roof  scuttled  or 
fluttered,  —  whichever  may  be  the  better  expression 
for  a  noisy  motion,  which  partook  of  those  of  tortoises 
or  seals,  or  the  like,  at  the  water's  edge,  and  birds 
startled  from  a  brake. 

"  Come  to  that  storm-house  door,  and  I'll  let  you  in," 
continued  Mr.  Bruce. 

"Whoever  put  that  water," —  said  Towne,  going 
away  shivering,  "  wish  I  had  him  —  head  in  it." 

The  boys  —  silently  retiring  at  the  presence  of  the 
Tutor  —  began  to  giggle,  as  jDOor  Towne  vented  his 
threats. 

Mr.  Bruce,  having  lighted  the  dormitory  lamp,  went 
down,  being  doubtless  listened  to  closely  as  he  went, 
step  by  step,  and  heard  to  turn  the  key  of  the  back 
door. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Towne,"  said  the  Tutor,  who 
seemed  to  find  it  necessary  to  repress  the  boy's  eager- 
ness to  reach  his  alcove.  "  Follow  me,  if  you  jdease  ; " 
and  then  might  be  heard,  coming  along  the  hall  and  up 
the  crooked  stairs,  two  sets  of  steps,  —  one  brisk  and 
trig,  the  other  heavy,  flat,  and  Avet,  even  to  the  ear. 

In  the  "  Cross  Dormitory  "  the  boys  were  sitting  ujj 
in  their  beds,  as  the  Tutor,  with  great  gravity,  and  poor 
Towne,  looking  pretty   sulky   and   savage,  went   by. 


THE  DOING.  95 


From  the  sounds  which  came  forth,  it  would  seem  that 
neither  admiration  nor  symjjathy  was  the  overpowering 
emotion  with  the  Avitnesses  of  the  adventurous  Towne's 
present  condition.  Mr.  Bruce  stopped,  just  inside  of 
the  large  dormitory  and  near  the  lamp  ;  and  near  him, 
of  course,  stopped  Towne.  The  Tutor  did  not  look 
strictly  along  the  alcoves,  or  he  would  have  seen  that 
many  faces,  with  very  slight  effort  at  concealment,  were 
peering  out  at  the  sides  of  the  curtains. 

The  victim  of  misfortune  was  certainly  a  most  ridic- 
ulous iigure ;  for,  whether  the  hogshead  had  been  nearly 
full,  or  whether  he  had  gone  into  it  "  squatting,"  he  was 
soaked  and  streaming  from  his  neck  to  his  feet. 

"  Move  about,  Towne,  until  I've  done  with  you,"  said 
the  Tutor,  "  or  you'll  spoil  all  the  ceiling  of  the  school- 
room below.  Distribute  your  streams  a  little."  And 
poor  Towne  began  traversing,  like  a  machine,  a  large 
circle,  laying  the  dust  (if  there  was  any)  effectually. 

"  Mayn't  I  go  to  bed,  sir  ?  "  asked  Towne,  in  a  voice 
intended,  jDcrhaps,  to  be  severe  and  distant,  but  which 
came  near  setting  the  whole  dormitory  off  in  a  lit  of 
laughter.  Tittering  and  repressed  sobs  did  make  them- 
selves heard.  Towne,  nevertheless,  kept  up  his  best 
dignity,  and  uttered  one  more  sound  :  — 

"I'm"  — 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Bruce,  "  you've  been  going  through 
a  preparation  for  going  to  bed,  have  you,  sir  ?  Where 
have  you  been  since  I  saw  you  last  ?  I  told  you  not  to 
let  me  see  you  here  again." 

"  No  more  I  wouldn't,  sir,"  said  Towne,  "  if  you'd  let 
me  have  my  way  ;  but  you  wouldn't." 

Even  the  gravity  of  Mr.  Bruce  gave  way  a  little 
before  the  boy's  pitiable  figure.     "  You  didn't  remem- 


96  ANTONY  BRADE. 

ber  the  rules  about  bathing,  I  think  ? "  he  asked, 
sraihng. 

"  I'm  sure,  sir,"  said  Towne,  stopping  his  roupd,  and 
dripping  where  he  was,  "  this  is  pretty  good  keeping 
the  rules  ;  for  if  I  went  '  a-bathin'  out  of  doors'  it  can't 
be  said  but  what  I  had  a  tootor  to  see  to  me." 

This  time  the  furtive  laughter  may  have  been  with 
Towne  instead  of  at  him.  His  pluck  appealed  to  the 
boys'  sympathy,  and  j:)ossibly  conciliated  also  the  kindli- 
ness of  the  Tutor ;  for  he  certainly  immediately  released 
the  unsuccessful  adventurer  from  his  enforced  round. 

"  Come,  Towne !  have  you  got  a  rough  bathing- 
towel  ?  "  said  he ;  and,  having  secured  one  from  some 
volunteer  in  an  alcove,  he  took  him  into  a  bath-room, 
where,  after  making  him  strip  himself  of  his  slight 
clothing,  which  clung  closely  to  him,  and  throwing  the 
soaked  garments  into  the  bath-tub,  he  gave  liim  so 
thorough  a  rubbing-down  that  poor  Towne  more  than 
once  cried  out,  and  came  out  of  the  operation  glowing 
all  over. 

Then  Mr.  Bruce  sent  him  to  bed  in  a  night-gown, 
borrowed,  like  the  towel,  and  bade  him  "  good-night !  " 

"  Isn't  that  hogshead  a  good  place,  Towne  ?  "  "  Did 
the  water  fit  you,  Townie  ?  "  were  questions  addressed 
to  the  retiring  adventurer,  interrupted  suddenly  by  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Cornell  in  his  room. 

The  dormitory,  after  this,  was  still. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE  NEXT  MORNING. 

The  sun  came  up,  next  day,  as  he  usually  comes  up 
at  St.  Bart's,  at  that  time  of  the  year.  First  comes  a 
scattering  of  golden  largess  far  forward  on  the  sky; 
then  a  crowing  of  all  the  cocks,  as  if  they  had  not 
begun  and  kept  it  up  for  three  or  four  hours  already, 
to  be  sure  to  hit  the  time  when  it  did  come  ;  a  general 
standing-round  of  all  trees,  damp  and  frosty  from  the 
night ;  next  the  comfortable  salutation  of  farmers, 
smock-frocked  and  respectable,  across  the  way ;  then 
the  blowing  of  the  horrid  steam-whistles ;  next  the 
cheery  ringing  of  St.  Bart's  bell ;  then  the  slow,  sober 
sun  himself 

The  first  use  that  Fatty  Dover  made  of  his  morning 
strength  and  intelligence,  that  next  day,  was  to  rush 
out  of  the  storm-house  door,  and  by  the  hogshead,  and 
over  the  triumphant  part  of  Towne's  track  of  the  night 
before,  searching  all  sides  with  his  eyes,  as  he  ran. 
He  went  the  length  of  the  school-room,  and  along  the 
western  end ;  and  then  from  where  he  stood  he  sur- 
veyed anxiously  the  neighborhood,  and  then,  disap- 
pointed, turned  back. 

The  wash-rooms  were  noisy  that  morning,  with 
anecdote  and  laughter,  all  drawn  from  the  fruitful 
experience  of  the  night  before.  The  jokes  were  poor, 
5  o 


98  ANTONY  BRADE. 

as  most  men's,  and  almost  all  boys'  jokes  are ;  but  boys* 
jokes,  if  not  those  of  men,  also,  answer  as  good  a  pur- 
pose in  the  world  as  a  great  many  devout  and  unselfish 
writers  profess  to  expect  or  to  hope  from  their  books, 
which,  as  their  authors  say,  will  have  answered  their 
purpose  if  one  pious  soul  shall  have  received  comfort 
or  edification  from  them.  The  amount  of  gratification 
given  to  at  least  one  person  by  each  witticism  here 
would  have  pleased  those  friends  of  mankind. 

Gaston,  who  ventured  more  into  the  province  of  clas- 
sic history  and  invention  than  his  neighbors,  had  given 
Towne  the  nickname  of  "  Ava8v6nEvog  "  (anadyomenos), 
which,  as  it  was  not  generally  understood,  he  explained 
at  large,  "  As  Venus,"  he  said,  "  had  risen  from  the 
sea,  so  Towne  had  risen  "  — 

"  From  the  seo-a-s-k,"  said  Thompson  Walters,  trying 
a  pun  of  his  own. 

This  proceeding  necessarily  took  from  the  freshness 
of  Gaston's  joke ;  but  the  boys,  in  the  end,  got  as  much 
satisfaction  out  of  it,  for  they  called  the  hero  of  the 
last  evening  "  Venus ; "  and  young  Meadows,  who,  like 
Gaston,  in  lesser  degree,  had  pushed  into  mythology, 
started  a  demand  of  him  for  apples. 

The  hero  himself  tried  to  show  that  "  that  water  was 
one  of  the  best  things  for  him  that  could  be ;  for,  if 
anybody  had  tried  to  find  him  in  it,  ten  to  one  he'd 
have  put  his  Land  on  the  water,  instead  of  him." 

Remsen  was  spoken  of  as  having  been  the  woman  in 
the  white  dress,  or  the  ghost,  and  commended ;  but 
Dover  was  quizzed  by  pretty  nearly  everybody  who 
knew  how  to  quiz  afler  any  fashion.  It  seemed  a 
tender  point  with  him,  this  morning,  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  find  the  black  dress,  which  Towne  in  his 


TEE  NEXT  MORNING.  99 

adventures  had  dropped  and  left  behind  ;  and  he  was 
asked  "  how  he  would  feel  if  he  should  see  Mr.  Wilson 
in  that  gown,  making  a  fool  of  him  before  the  whole 
school." 

Russell,  a  Fifth  Form  boy,  had  caught,  and  brought 
away,  a  "poetical "  outpouring  of  Antony  Brade.  This 
Kussell  read,  with  great  enthusiasm,  and  it  was  received 
with  much  appreciation  by  the  public  in  the  wash- 
room :  — 

"  '  A  Towne  leaned  over  a  hogshead's  brim. 
To  see  its  own  face  far  down  ; 
And  tumbled  in.    If  it  could  not  swim, 
What  else  could  it  do  but  drown  1 '  " 

*'  Pooh !  "  said  Hutchins,  almost  as  soon  as  the  read- 
ing began,  "  you  say  Royalty  wrote  that  ?  I'm  sure  he 
never  wrote  that !  I  know  I've  heard  something  like 
that,  —  something  about  a  '  town '  and  a  '  cask,'  —  a 
Senior  in  college  couldn't  do  that." 

"  Blake's  the  fellow  to  tell  what  college  fellows  can 
do,"  said  Gaston. 

"  Where's  Blake  ?  "  asked  several  voices ;  and  when 
Blake  appeared,  with  his  face  and  hair  all  dripping 
from  a  wash-basin,  and  blowing  water  from  his  nostrils, 
Hutchins  appealed  to  him,  — 

"Look  here,  old  Ultimatum!  wouldn't  it  take  a 
♦Senior'  to  write  that?" 

"  He  hasn't  heard  it,"  said  the  chorus. 

Blake,  however,  was  above  any  such  necessity :  — 

"  That  don't  make  any  difference,"  he  said.  "  At  my 
college,  out  there,  the  fellows  get  through  with  all  their 
literary  work  before  they  get  to  be  Seniors.  Seniors,  at 
Ulterior,  do  as  they  like.     It's  all  practical  work,  then, 


100  ANTONY  BRADE. 


— '  scientific '  they  call  it,  —  they  keep  tally  at  base- 
ball, and  keep  '  time '  for  fellows  rowin'." 

"  Let's  have  the  rest  o'  the  poem,"  said  Thompson 
Walters ;  and  Russell  went  on  reading :  — 

"  *  A  Tutor's  summons  came  o'er  the  spot : 
That  Towne  began  to  rise  : 
A  very  wet  Towne,  —  by  no  means  hot,  — 
But  all  right  otherwise.*  " 

So  well  received  was  this  second  stanza  that  when 
Hutchins  began  to  object  that  he  "  knew  a  poem  by 
some  great  poet,  —  De  Kalb,  or  De  Forest,  or  some- 
thing," —  he  was  called  upon  by  many  voices,  in  lan- 
guage more  vigorous  than  elegant,  to  "  shut  up." 

"  That  isn't  all  of  it  ?  "  said  Thompson  Walters. 

"  Oh,  '  lame  and  impotent  conclusion ' ! "  said  Gas- 
ton, quoting,  no  doubt,  from  some  of  his  great  books. 

Russell  was  not  inclined  to  forsake  the  rhyme,  or 
hear  it  disparaged  :  — 

"  You'd  better  try  it  yourself,  Gaston,"  he  said. 

"  And  do  it  in  Latin,"  said  Walters. 

"I  can,"  said  Gaston,  "if  I  try,"  and  began  to 
think :  — 

"  De  Oppido  audivisti, 
Et  ejus  sorte  tristi "  — 

He  had  gone  pretty  glibly  over  two  lines,  —  as  far 
as  most  rhymesters  go  well,  —  and  the  flow  of  verse 
was  obstructed. 

"  And  there  you  grow  rather  misty,"  said  Walters. 

"  Now  give  it  me,  please,  Russell,"  said  the  author  of 
the  English  verse,  who  stood  at  the  wash-room  door, 
blushing;  and,  receiving  it,  blushing  he  disappeared. 

In  the  younger  wash-room  a  crowd  of  lesser  fellows 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  101 

surrounded  him  and  teased  him  for  a  sight,  for  the 
fame  of  it  had  ah-eady  reached  them ;  but  he  tore  it 
into  a  hundred  pieces,  and  flinging  them  into  Leavitt's 
face  escap'^d  again. 

At  this  point  the  veritable  Towne  himself  appeared, 
and  a  sudden  whim  seized  several  boys,  all  at  once,  to 
shoulder  him,  and  give  him  a  triumph.  There  was 
little  time,  but  that  only  made  them  go  about  it  the 
more  quickly ;  and  for  the  first  thing  had  him  up  with 
his  head  pretty  hardly  thrust  against  the  ceiling.  Gas- 
ton called  out  from  a  distance,  — 

"  '  Sublimo  vertice  sidera  feriam.'  Follows !  Fellows ! 
you've  made  him  see  stars  I "  which  could  hardly  give 
Towne  any  comfort. 

The  rest,  full  of  their  work,  said  that  "  Towne  had 
taken  cold,  in  saving  himself  from  drowning ; "  and 
were  just  going  to  toss  him  in  a  blanket  to  cure  him, 
when  suddenly  the  two-minute  bell  (which  they  might 
liave  expected)  struck.  Down  tumbled  Towne,  as 
many  a  hero  before  has  tumbled  from  a  triumph,  and 
was  left  sprawling,  to  gather  himself  up,  and  go  back, 
as  he  was,  to  every-day  life.  The  others  scampered 
up  stairs  or  down,  according  as  they  were,  or  were  not, 
nearly  enough  dressed. 

"Many  were  the  delinquencies,  besides  Towne's,  at 
roll-call  that  morning,  and  many  the  losses  of  break- 
fast ;  but  among  those  who  were  in  their  places  at  that 
meal  were  Dover  and  Wilkins,  b9th  of  whom  had  been 
summoned  to  Mr.  Bruce's  room  after  breakfast.  Dover 
had  begun  to  eat  and  drink  with  his  usual  appetite, 
which  was  one  of  the  best ;  but  a  certain  piece  of  intel- 
ligence which  gave,  as  it  passed  about,  a  pleasurable 
excitement  to  his  neighbors,  disturbed  Dover  to  such  an 


102  ANTONY  BBADE. 


extent  that  he  accomplished  far  less  than  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing ;  and  when  the  tables  were  dismissed,  he 
rushed  hatless  and  breathless  out  of  doors,  and  then  — 
with  a  question  at  random,  "  Where  is  it  ?  "  -2-  forward, 
toward  a  most  conspicuous  object  which  had  already 
attracted  the  attention  of  passers-by  on  the  road. 

This  object  was  a  black  dress,  hung  up  and  spread 
out,  to  full  length  and  width,  on  one  of  the  pear-trees, 
and  surmounted  by  a  woman's  black  hat.  At  first  a 
sort  of  astonishment  seemed  to  open  his  eyes  and  to 
slow  his  steps.  He  may  have  wondered,  perhaps,  how 
it  got  there ;  he  may  have  been  questioning  how  it 
could  be  got  down ;  but,  with  his  eyes  wide  open  and 
his  lips  apart,  he  made  steadily  for  it,  as  if  nothing  else 
existed. 

Already  boys  began  to  pelt  this  tempting  object  with 
whatever  they  could  find;  and  then  (alas  for  Dover!) 
a  large  boy  (Phil  Lamson)  set  himself,  as  large  boys 
sometimes  will,  directly  in  the  way,  and  faced  him  off 
from  whatever  way  of  escape  he  tried.  The  shower 
of  missiles,  for  some  reason,  slackened  and  then  sud- 
denly ceased ;  and  then  Dover  tried  as  hard  as  he  could, 
and  entreated  his  stopper  to  let  him  go.  It  was  all  in 
vain. 

Dover  saw  Brade  under  that  tree ;  and  with  laim  Reih- 
Ben,  longer-armed  than  he. 

He  begged  and  besought  to  be  let  alone  ("  There's 
Brade  and  Remsen  now !  "  said  he),  but  could  not  get 
away. 

The  cause  of  the  stoppage  in  the  flight  of  stones  and 
sticks  was  soon  evident.  "  Dover  !  "  said  a  voice  be- 
hind him,  as  exactly  measured  as  the  fling  of  a  lasso, 
"  I  thought  I  told  you  to  come  to  me  after  breakfast ;  ** 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  103 

and  Mr.  Bruce  appeared,  with  Mr.  Cornell,  walking 
leisurely. 

"  So  you  did,  sir ;  and  I'm  coming,  sir ;  but "  —  an- 
swered the  boy,  looking  round  toward  the  tree. 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  make  a  butt  of  yourself. 
Fatty,"  said  Phil  Lamson,  aside,  "  clear  out  and  thank 
me." 

On  the  South  Road,  close  by  the  school-grounds,  a 
carriage  had  stopped  in  the  way,  within  near  sight  of 
the  tree  with  the  black  dress, 

"Eldridge!"  said  a  lady's  voice,  of  that  courageous 
sort  that  is  not  afraid  to  go  across  any  open  space,  and 
encounter  any  ears  (as  in  this  case,  Mr.  Bruce's  and 
Mr.  Cornell's),  "how  much  time  have  we  got  ?  I  don't 
want  to  miss  that  train.  There !  that's  an  effigy !  It's 
something  those  boys  have  been  getting  up.  It's  Science 
or  Learning,  or  something.  (I  wonder  Mr.  Bruce  don't 
see  us.)" 

The  proper  name  she  pronounced  with  great  distinct- 
ness. 

"  Ma ! "  said  Miss  Minette  Wadham,  who  was  with 
her,  "don't  you  see  what  that  is?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do  ! "  said  the  mother.  "  I  understand 
it.     Boys  "  — 

Eldridge  ventured  an  assertion  that  "it  looked  to 
him  amazin'  like  one  o'  Miss  Wadham's  dresses." 

"  What  ?  No  !  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  in  excess  of 
amazement.     "What?   That  ain't  the  dress  I  lent"  — 

While  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  gazed  at  this 
extraordinary  exhibition,  Antony  and  his  taller  com- 
panion were  very  busy  at  the  tree,  but  without  climbing 
into  it. 

"  Brade !  "  said  Mr.  Bruce,  calling  from  a  little  dis- 
tance. 


104  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Just  as  he  spoke,  —  almost  at  tlic  very  word,  —  a 
sudden  flame  began  to  creep,  and  then  to  climb,  and 
then  to  leap  up  and  over  the  dress,  which  was  of  some 
flimsy  cotton  fabric ;  and  in  a  few  moments  the  tree 
showed  nothing  on  its  leafless  limbs  but  rags  of  glow- 
ing red,  and  then  of  black  tinder.  There  was  no  wind, 
and  the  boys  had  had  to  run  away  from  the  falling 
shreds  of  flame  which  for  an  instant  came  down 
thickly.  The  two  Tutors  continued  their  leisurely 
walk  to  the  scene. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mrs.  Wadham  worked 
about  in  her  seat,  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  speak- 
ing, and  of  course  looked  very  red.  It  could  not  be 
but  that  she  should  feel  her  dignity  involved,  at  this 
public  destruction  of  a  garment  formally  borrowed  of 
her ;  and  her  daughter,  we  may  suppose,  could  not 
help  sympathizing,  as  daughters  do.  Miss  Minette, 
however,  had  a  smile  on  her  face ;  and,  turning  herself 
away  from  the  scene  of  the  catastrophe,  looked  stead- 
fastly in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  It  was  loaned,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham,  beginning  the 
process  of  recovering  her  self-assurance,  "  for  the  pur- 
poses of  investigation,  —  of  an  investigation.  Well," 
she  continued,  a  little  flurried,  but  showing  her  native 
strength,  "  all  are  to  perish  in  the  using.  It  ain't 
showing  much  ceremony  ;  but  we'll  sacrifice  ceremony 
on  the  altar  of  investigation !  —  Yes,  on  the  altar 
of  investigation !  —  Drive  on,  Eldridge !  Do  your 
pootiest ! " 

"  There's  the  Caput ! "  was  cried ;  and  there,  sure 
enough,  —  not  on  the  ground,  but  at  his  study  win- 
dow, looking  out,  —  he  stood. 

Most  of  the  boys  were  already  hurrying  away,  to 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  105 

make  the  utmost  of  their  short  time  between  breakfast 
and  prayers.  Foot-ball  was  already  in  active  play,  and 
foot-ball  was  the  only  thing  in  the  world,  now,  to  every 
boy  but  Dover,  Brade,  and  Remsen,  and  such  others  as 
might  have  to  do  with  the  authorities,  for  the  activities 
of  last  night, 

"  I  set  it  on  fire,  sir,"  said  Brade  to  Mr.  Bruce. 

"  And  I  gave  him  the  match,  —  I  did,  indeed,  sir,"  said 
Remsen,  seeing  the  Tutor  smile. 

The  scene  at  the  tree  over,  the  Tutors  sought  the 
Rector. 

They  felt  clear  that  the  thing  had  been  a  masquer- 
ade, to  look  like  Mrs.  Ryan  ("  the  lady  that  came  to 
church  with  her  daughter,"  as  Mr.  Bruce  explained), 
"  because  the  boys  thought  she  was  a  watch  over 
Brade." 

"  And  Brade  has  set  it  on  fire,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
Rector,  "and  no  wonder." 

Mr.  Bruce  added  another  piece  of  information,  — 
that  "  he  believed  the  dress  was  one  of  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham's." 

"  "Well,  certainly,  if  she  lent  it,  that's  her  look-out," 
said  the  Rector.  "  We  must  punish  playing  with  fire  ; 
but  I'll  take  off  a  good  deal  for  the  provocation.  I'm 
sorry  to  have  Brade's  score  lose  by  another  boy's 
fault.     Towne  may  learn  wisdom  some  of  these  days." 

Though  the  few  minutes  before  Prayers,  and  the 
Recess  in  the  forenoon  together,  were  not  enough  for 
the  examination  of  the  young  fellows  engaged  in  the 
fun  of  last  night,  it  Avas  all  done  with  before  dinner, 
in  time  to  go  on  the  school-room  slate  that  afternoon. 
The  result  was  that  Towne  came  out,  poor  fellow,  with 
a  special  infliction  of  lines  and  bounds,  as  the  chief 
5* 


106  ANTONY  BRADE. 

offender ;  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  in  that  dorniitory 
were  treated  pretty  evenly  with  lines  proportioned  to 
their  technical  age  or  standing  in  the  School,  in  order 
of  Forms. 

The  fire  was  not  forgotten,  but  handled  lightly  this 
time,  with  the  reason  given. 

With  this  all  were  pretty  well  satisfied,  except  poor 
Towne,  who  muttered  that  "  when  a  fellow  got  wet 
through  and  shivering,  the  way  he'd  been,  they  ought 
to  have  compassion  on  him,  and  not  punish  him  hard, 
like  that." 


CHAPTER  XL 

MB.   PARMENTER  DRAWN  TO   THE  FLAME. 

The  bkze  of  that  dress  of  Mrs.  Wadham's,  if  it  had 
not  flashed  into  a  great  many  eyes  of  Eastham  people, 
had  yet  been  heard  of  in  the  post-office  and  the  store, 
and  in  many  a  private  house  and  homestead  of  the 
town,  within  a  few  hours  after  that  dress  had  become 
tinder.  PubUc  opinion  had  not  satisfied  itself  "  how 
Mrs.  Wadham's  dress  came  to  be  on  that  tree,"  or 
"  how  it  came  to  be  set  on  fire."  That  "  she  had  lent 
it  to  be  a  sacrifice  or  something,"  was  part  of  the  gen- 
eral information,  and  was  wrought-in  through  the 
public  discussions  of  the  subject,  but  did  not  help  to 
make  things  jilainer. 

This  contribution  to  the  fund  of  general  knowledge 
was,  most  likely,  made  by  Eldridge,  who,  in  coming 
back  from  the  cars,  made  visits  of  some  length  to  both 
store  and  post-office. 

One  man  there  was  in  Eastham  to  whom  the  affiiirs 
of  Town  and  School  were  alike  near;  and  to  him  was 
many  a  question  proposed,  to  find  out  "  what  those 
boys  had  been  up  to,  there,  at  Saint  Bartholomew's 
School." 

Mr.  Parmenter,  a  leading  man  and  a  leading  trustee 
of  St.  Bart's,  had  the  reputation  of  keeping  himself 
pretty  closely  informed  of  whatever  took  place  there. 


108  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Tlie  School,  as  it  had  happened,  though  still  in  its  early 
infancy,  had  had  the  benefit  of  more  than  half  as  many 
heads  as  it  had  seen  yea/s  ;  and  this  variety  and  abun- 
dance was  said  to  be  owing  to  the  vigilant  supervision 
and  unremitting  interest  of  that  active  trustee. 

Sometimes  he  was  coming  out  of  the  stable ;  some- 
times he  was  looking  into  the  kitchen  ;  sometimes  he 
was  talking  or  asking  about  arrangements  in  the  cellar. 
He  was  occasionally  bringing  information  to  the  Rector 
of  the  School,  and  occasionally  asking  information  from 
him ;  he  was  corresponding  with  parents,  and  he  kept 
up  continual  intercourse  with  the  under-masters  and 
the  boys. 

This  assiduous  devotion  was  said  not  to  have  been 
approved  by  any  of  the  different  heads,  so  far;  and 
one  after  another,  like  swiftly  circling  stars,  had  rolled 
off  into  space. 

Mr.  Parmenter's  way  of  discharging  the  duties  of  his 
office  of  trustee,  if  not  properly  appreciated  by  the 
several  rectors,  was  very  efficient  in  its  kind.  He  never 
left  the  other  members  of  the  Board  in  ignorance  of 
weak  points  in  the  administration  of  the  School ;  and 
he  never  failed  to  administer  comfort  to  the  existing 
Rector,  and  to  excite  him  to  noble  effort,  by  showing 
him  how  inferior  his  jJredeccssor  had  been,  and  making 
him  familiar  with  the  chief  short-comings  of  the  former 
administrations. 

With  this  active  spirit  in  him,  we  may  be  sure  that 
it  was  not  long  before  Mr.  Parmenter  put  himself  in  the 
way  of  possessing  all  the  information  that  was  to  be 
had. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Warren,  Rector  of  St.  Bart's 
School,  was  walking  up  and  down  upon  the  piazza,  and 


PABMENTER  DRAWN  TO   THE  FLAME.     109 

apparently  iu  that  state  of  settled  thouglitfulness  iu 
which  one  rests  himself  now  and  then,  or  draws  himself 
oiF  from  his  care  by  looking  for  a  while  at  this  thing, 
or  listening  for  a  while  to  that  person^ 

As  he  paced  to  and  fi'o,  he  stopped  at  one  time,  and 
fixed  his  eyes  steadily,  though  not  very  actively,  on  the 
figures  of  a  horse  and  rider  coming  along  the  South 
Road,  and  leaving  behind  them  a  little  cloud  of  dust, 
such  as  can  be  raised,  even  just  before  winter,  in  certain 
conditions  of  our  soil.  The  horse,  as  could  be  seen, 
even  from  a  distance,  was  a  good  one ;  and  his  gait, 
an  easy  gallop,  showed  good  training.  Having  looked 
in  that  direction  for  a  moment  or  two,  Mr.  Warren 
turned  and  walked  again. 

The  rhythmic  sound  of  iron-shod  hoofs  drew  nearer, 
was  deadened  for  a  moment,  and  then  clattered  up  the 
short  road-way  to  the  School  buildings.  The  walker  had 
turned,  at  the  end  of  his  beat,  and  was  coming  back, 
just  as  the  rider  was  close  at  hand. 

About  the  letter  there  was  something  of  what  is 
called  "  air,"  as  he  sat  his  horse,  with  his  heels  de- 
cisively down,  the  rein  held  lightly,  and  the  whip 
under  his  arm.  He  was  a  little  stiff,  perhaps,  but  looked 
as  if  he  knew  that  he  was  right,  and  as  if  there  was  no 
other  way  of  doing  what  he  was  doing  than  that.  His 
salute  was  something  very  definite  also. 

"  Good  morning,  sir ! "  he  said,  from  the  little  distance 
near  the  side-gate.  "You've  been  having  quite  a  piece 
of  fireworks,  I  hear." 

"Why,  no;  nothing  of  any  consequence,  that  I  re- 
member," answered  Mr.  Warren,  and  invited  Mr.  Par- 
menter,  bis  visitor,  to  come  in. 

The  horseman  excused  himself  for  want  of  time. 


110  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  One  of  our  ladies  has  lost  a  portion  of  her  ward- 
robe, I'm  told,"  he  continued,  smiling.  "  No  disorderly 
conduct  among  the  boys,  I  hope  ?  —  It  occurred  to  me 
that  it  might  be  necessaiy  to  make  some  atonement. 
Of  course,  we  couldn't  offer  compensation  exactly." 

"  I  don't  think  any  thing  is  to  be  done  on  our  side. 
If  the  lady  lends  a  dress  to  her  son  or  another  boy,  she 
must  look  to  the  boy,"  said  Mr.  Warren.  "  I  don't  pro- 
pose to  do  any  thing  about  it." 

—  "  If  it  don't  bring  the  School  into  any  trouble,"  said 
Mr.  Parmenter,  like  one  who  felt  that  there  were  a  good 
many  things  to  be  thought  of  by  men  in  responsible 
positions.  "  People  have  a  way  of  talking.  You  find 
Brade,  I  suppose,  a  high-spirited  fellow  ?  "  he  continued, 
changing  the  subject  a  little,  after  having  given  his 
hint. 

"  A  very  fine  boy,  and  a  very  promising  boy,  every 
way,"  answered  the  Rector  of  the  School ;  "  with  the 
stuff  in  him  to  make  a  good  Christian  man,  and  a 
satisfaction  to  his  friends." 

This  thorough  commendation,  apparently  gave  much 
satisfaction.  Mr.  Parmenter  called  to  Mr.  Stout,  and 
very  courteously  desired  him  to  take  his  horse  ("he 
would  be  only  a  minute  or  two").  Then  he  fonnally, 
and  with  precision,  dismounted,  and,  coming  upon  the 
piazza,  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  settees,  and  busied 
his  hands  with  setting  right  some  of  the  twisting  of  the 
rattan,  of  which  it  waS  made,  while  he  talked. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  young  Brade's  birthday  comes 
to-morrow."  Then,  after  a  pause  to  give  effect  to  his 
minuteness  of  information,  he  said,  *'  Am  I  right,  sir  ? 
Perhaps  it  has  occurred  to  you  already,  without  any 
suggestion.     Of  course  "  (with  a  bow,  and  interrupting 


PABMENTER  DRAWN  TO   THE  FLAME.     Ill 

liimself)  "I  haven't  any  fear  of  your  neglecting  any 
thing  that  concerns  the  intellectual  part  of  the  boys' 
education.  There  were  some  things  it  was  impossible 
to  make  your  prede  —  " 

Mr.  Wan-en's  face,  it  must  be  confessed,  showed 
less  interest  than  annoyance.  Mr.  Parmenter  pro- 
ceeded :  — 

"It's  the  custom,  I  believe,  in  foreign  countries, — 
and  a  very  graceful  one,  as  it  strikes  me  "  (the  word 
"graceful"  he  made  emphatic),  —  "to  have  a  good 
deal  of  ceremony  on  birthdays.  We  can't  make  a 
diiference  between  one  boy  and  another,  but  Brade  is 
a  little  homesick,  and  we  might "  — 

"Brade  isn't  homesick,"  said  Mr.  Warren.  "There 
isn't  a  happier  fellow  in  the  school." 

"  Perhaps  our  information  differs,"  said  Mr,  Parmen- 
ter, with  sufficient  gravity.  "I  commonly  have  inde- 
pendent sources.  I  thought  you  might  make  a  little 
more  of  him.     Perhaps  a  little  special  attention"  — 

Mr.  Warren  had  changed  color,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  during  this  speech.     He  answered:  — 

"  Thank  you :  he  won't  be  neglected." 

Mr.  Parmenter  changed  the  subject  again. 

"  I  saw  a  very  beautiful  drawing,  —  by  one  of  your 
famil}',  I  think,  sir.  Would  it  be  too  much  trouble  to 
let  me  see  it  ?  It  was  lying  on  the  table  in  the  front 
room.  That's  it,  I  think,"  he  added,  having  left  his 
seat  and  looked  through  the  window. 

Mr.  Warren  obligingly  brought  it,  —  a  crayon  draw- 
ing. 

"By  your  sister,  sir,  I  think  I  understood?"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Parmenter.  "There's  a  great  deal  o^ depth^'* 
(emphatic)  "  in  that.     Is  it  after  an  old  master  ?  " 


112  ANTONY  BRADE. 


Tbe  drawing  was  of  a  western  sky  and  sunset,  as  waa 
indicated  by  the  attitudes  of  such  animated  figures  as 
appeared  in  it.  It  was  really  so  good  that  the  splendors 
flung  upon  the  clouds,  and  showing  through  a  row  of 
leafless  larches  and  other  trees,  on  a  rising  ground, 
seemed  scarcely  to  want  the  gorgeous  hues  of  gold  and 
scarlet  or  crimson. 

It  even  seemed  to  change,  under  the  eye,  to  deepen- 
ing or  lightening  of  red,  and  burnishing  or  dimming  of 
yellow,  as  the  colors  change  aloft  while  the  sun  is  going 
down,  and  promising  a  fine  to-morrow. 

"  That  impresses  me  very  much,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Par- 
menter.  "  I  wish  you'd  allow  me  to  have  it  framed. 
It's  a  jewel  worthy  of  being  set  in  an  appropriate 
case." 

Mr.  Warren  excused  himself,  very  absolutely,  with 
thanks. 

Mr.  Parmenter  drew  a  parcel  from  his  pocket. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  do  me  the  favor,  sir,  to  give  that  to 
Brade,  with  my  wishes  for  '  many  happy  returns '  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  WaiTcn,  "  unless  you'd  like  to 
give  it  yourself." 

On  this  point  Mr.  Parmenter,  a  man  of  business  and 
experience,  had  notions  of  propriety,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  think  it  better  to  have  evei-y  thing,  as  far  as 
possible,  pass  through  the  Rector's  hands.  You  haven't 
observed  any  communication  between  Mrs.  Ryan  and 
—  you  know,  I  suppose,  they  say  she's  a  watch  over 
him." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Mr.  Warren,  impatiently.  "  There 
would  be  no  harm  if  there  were." 

"  I  don't  feel  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
deliberately,  like  one  who  felt  his  own  responsibilities,  if 


PARMENTER  DRAWN  TO   THE  FLAME.     113 

not  those  of  others  also.  "  I'm  not  clear  that  it  would 
be  safe  to  shut  our  eyes  to  any  possible  harm  which 
might  befall  one  committed  to  our  care.  Have  we  ?  I 
think  not." 

With  this  expression  of  opinion  Mr.  Parmenter  took 
his  leave;  mounted  his  horse  in  true  style,  grasping  the 
reins  and  a  lock  of  the  mane  in  his  left  hand  ;  setting 
his  foot  deliberately  in  the  stirrup,  while  Mr.  Stout  held 
the  head;  springing  and  swinging  himself  over  the 
saddle.  When  he  found  himself  handsomely  in  his 
seat,  he  promised  to  do  as  much  for  Mr.  Stout  when 
Mr.  Stout  should  need  his  serv^':'es  in  the  same  way, 
and,  putting  his  horse  to  an  easy  gallop,  rode  off. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A    DISTINGUISHED    FOREIGNER,    WHO,    PER- 
HAPS,  HAS  SOMETHING    TO  DO    WITH  IT. 

The  main  building  of  St.  Bart's  was  large ;  but  the 
chief  merit  in  its  appearance  lay  in  the  variety  of  its 
outline,  occasioned  by  the  additions  of  different  shapes 
and  sizes,  according  to  the  need  of  the  time. 

Its  front  doorway  was  good  and  substantial,  a  fair 
oval  of  plate-glass  showing,  when  the  door  was  shut,  a 
large  hall,  with  a  handsome,  winding  staircase,  on  the 
first  landing  of  which  stood  one  of  those  long  clocks, 
which  hold  so  fast  a  place  in  the  mind  of  one  who  knew 
them  in  childhood.  Over  the  doorway,  and  in  front 
of  a  lengthwise  window,  was  a  carving,  which,  to  an 
intelligent  eye,  was  evidently  heraldic :  a  "  wreath,"  or 
"  torse,"  of  red  and  white,  bore  an  upright  something, 
which  one,  who  knew  the  name  of  the  School,  and  the 
conventional  symbol  of  its  saint,  might  recognize  as  a 
dagger  or  knife.  The  blade  and  handle  of  this  were  of 
the  same  colors  respectively,  or,  as  they  would  be  called 
in  heraldry,  gules  and  argent.  Beneath,  in  golden 
church  text,  was  the  legend,  "  Sursum,"  {upwards). 

It  was  a  harmless  joke  of  successive  Forms,  as  they 
advanced  in  Latinity,  to  say  that  this  motto  was  an 
invitation  to  the  Rector's  study,  in  the  second  story. 

The  implement  which,  as  described,  decorated  the 


A  DISTINGUISHED  FOREIGNER.  115 

entrance  to  St.  Bart's,  had  puzzled  a  good  many  visi- 
tors. It  was  popularly  called  among  the  boys  "St. 
Bart's  whittle ; "  and  new-comers  to  the  School  were 
mystified,  where  they  were  capable  of  it,  by  hearing  it 
called  his  "  whistle."  The  Rev.  Mr.  Merritt,  one  of  the 
Trustees,  when  fresh  in  office,  had  innocently  taken  it 
for  illustration  one  day  as  a  church  steeple,  exhorting 
the  assembled  boys  to  "  remember  the  badge  of  their 
school,  —  that  sky-pointing  spire,  —  and  direct  their 
flight  with  unflagging  wing  still  upwards ; "  and  when 
some  one  whispered  an  explanation,  as  he  sat  down, 
astonished  at  the  laughter  which  greeted  what  was 
intended  to  be,  and  doubtless  was,  the  point  of  his 
speech,  said  that  "  the  fault  was  the  carver's,  and  not 
his." 

At  this  door,  surveying  this  heraldic  device,  and 
whatever  else  ornamented  and  distinguished  the  place 
of  entrance,  was  standing,  on  an  afternoon  in  early 
autumn,  a  foreign-looking  gentleman,  of  large  size  and 
distinguished  air.  He  had  tried  the  knocker  with  little 
efiect.  Apparently  those  who  ought  to  have  heard  and 
come  to  this  inanimate  call  were  away,  or  were  napping ; 
and  the  only  result  of  his  experiment  with  the  knocker 
was  the  stopping  of  a  little  girl  in  the  road,  at  a  short 
distance,  who  curiously  watched  his  movements.  He 
proceeded  next  to  ring  the  door-bell.  While  lie  was 
still  waiting,  a  small,  slight,  neatly-dressed  man  came 
u})  (whose  most  noticeable  feature,  perhaps,  was  a  set 
of  squarely  trimmed  whiskei's  and  moustache),  and  said 
politely :  — 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help  you,  sir.  I'm  at  home  here.  I'm 
a  trustee  of  the  institution.  Did  you  want  to  see  the 
Rector,  sir?  the  Rev.  Mister  Warren?" 


116  ANTONY  BRADE. 

The  foreign-looking  gentleman  turned  at  this  address, 
and,  like  a  very  courteous  and  distinguished  foreigner, 
saluted  the  Trustee,  who  had  thus  come  to  his  help,  and 
thanking  that  gentleman  for  his  kind  offices,  —  approv- 
ing, perhaps,  in  his  foreign  heart,  artjOmai  ioToi  (stethessi 
heoisi),  as  the  boys  of  the  Fifth  Form  might  say,  after 
Dan  Homei',  this  American  habit  of  keeping  Trustees 
about  the  premises  to  wait  upon  strangers,  —  inquired 
whether  the  building  was  a  hotel. 

The  Trustee,  smiling  as  one  whom  a  consciousness  of 
wit  made  good-humored,  informed  him  that,  "  though 
they  had  a  good  many  boarders  "  (this,  as  conveying  a 
joke,  and  that  in  a  language  foreign  to  the  hearer,  he 
pronounced  quite  distinctly),  "  this  was  not  a  hotel." 

Answering  this  assurance  with  a  simple  interrogative 
"  So  ?  "  and  then  asking  pardon,  the  distinguished  foreign 
gentleman,  declining  to  go  in,  accepted  a  seat  outside, 
and  listened  attentively  to  an  account  of  the  character 
of  the  institution,  of  which  his  informant  was  a  trustee. 
Having  heard  this  account  through  to  the  end  (or  at 
least  to  a  convenient  place  for  the  end),  the  foreigner, 
drawing  out  his  watch,  said  in  outlandish  but  very  in- 
telligible English  that  "  he  wished  the  manufactories  of 
Weston  to  see.  Might  the  gentleman  only  be  so  good 
and  tell  him  when  he  could  next  take  the  cars  ?  " 

Having  been  informed  by  the  Trustee  that  he  had 
"  some  two  hours  to  wait,"  and  having  met  this  second 
disappointment  with  the  same  interrogative  monosylla- 
ble as  before,  "  So  ?  "  he  returned  his  watch  (a  rich-look- 
ing  and  very  foreign-looking  watch)  to  his  pocket,  and 
addressed  the  courteous  and  communicative  Trustee :  ^ 

"  This  is  a  school  for  boys  ?  " 

The  Trustee  accepted  this  interrogative  affirmation 


A  DISTINOUISHED  FOREIGNER.  117 

with  a  readiness  which  implied  satisfaction  at  having 
made  himself  so  well  understood ;  and  the  stranger 
continued :  — 

"  If  it  pleases,  how  is  called  that  little  boy,  with  curly 
head,  who  plays  ?  " 

"  That  is  Brade,"  answered  the  ready  Trustee. 

"  '  Bread '  ?  "  asked  the  foreign  gentleman,  giving  a 
foreign  turn  to  the  name.  "  That  is  the  best  thing :  the 
first  one  of  whom  I  ask  is  '  Bread ' !  "  And  he  smiled, 
repeating  the  name,  " 'Bread ' !  that  is  good ;  that  is  the 
first  wish.  Might  I  with  the  young  gentleman  speak  ?  " 
And  to  the  Trustee's  assurance  that  he  might  certainly 
speak  with  any  boy,  if  he  wished  it,  he  asked  pleasantly, 
"You  think?" 

"  He  is  a  foreign  child,  of  very  high  family,  it  is  sup- 
posed, —  some  think  a  Russian,"  said  the  Trustee, 
emphasizing  the  word,  as  if  this  intelligence  would 
give  the  stranger  an  interest  in  the  school  or  in  the 
scholar. 

To  this  information  the  distinguished-looking  gentle- 
man listened  attentively,  but  showed  no  surprise,  and 
answered  only  by  the  expressive  monosyllable  which  he 
had  several  times  before  employed  to  so  good  effect. 
The  Trustee  hastened  to  call  the  boy ;  and  Brade,  with 
cheeks  glowing  and  eyes  bright  from  play,  came  for- 
ward, turning  to  bid  the  "  fellows  "  go  on. 

The  stranger  rose  at  his  approach,  went  forward  to 
meet  him,  and  at  once  engaged  him  in  a  conversation 
of  question  and  answer ;  the  Trustee  having  first  dis- 
charged what  he  evidently  considered  a  duty,  to  be 
gravely  and  seriously  performed,  by  informing  the  boy 
that  "  the  gentleman  wished  to  speak  with  him."  This 
duty  done,  the  Trustee  stood  not  fur  away  from  the 


118  ANTONY  BRADE. 


interview,  occupying  himself,  rather  faintly,  with  several 
boys,  who,  under  the  pretence  of  "  tag,"  or  some  other 
pretence,  had  contrived  to  bring  themselves  within 
hearing. 

"  You  have  a  good  name,"  said  the  stranger.  "  You 
are  not  of  this  country  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Brade,  sir,"  answered  Antony,  looking 
down  a  little  and  blushing,  "  and  I  came  from  Philadei- 
phia."  At  the  same  time  he  showed  the  letters  carved, 
in  the  fashion  of  other  boys,  upon  a  hockey-stick  which 
he  had  in  his  hand. 

"  Ah  !  so  !  "  said  the  stranger,  looking  to  the  Trustee, 
who  drew  a  little  nearer,  as  if  invited  by  the  stranger's 
look.  The  name  the  foreign  gentleman,  smiling, 
spelled  out  carefully,  letter  by  letter,  "  B-R-A-D-E, 
Brade ; "  and  then,  giving  back  the  stick  to  its  owner, 
repeated,  "  B-r-a-d-e,  Brade." 

"  You  love  to  study  very  much  ?  "  the  foreign  gentle- 
man continued  ;  and  having  received  the  usual  answer, 
"  Pretty  well,  sir,"  asked  again,  "  You  like  not  to  play 
at  all?"  and  being  answered  that  Antony  "liked  play 
very  much,"  he  laughed  and  said,  — 

"  Your  father  liked  to  play  when  he  was  boy :  this 
gentleman,  also,  I  think,"  looking  with  a  pleasant  smile 
to  the  official  of  the  institution  for  confirmation. 
"  Omnes,  pueri,  ludendi  amdifuimus :  know  you  what 
means  that  ?  " 

This  sentence,  Brade,  with  the  gentleman's  good- 
natured  help  in  repeating  the  words,  and  asking, 
"What  is  subjectum  of 'fuimus'?"  translated  pretty 
well :  "  We  all,  as  boys,  have  been  eager  for  play." 

This  translation  was  accepted  with  a  kindly  smile, 
and  the  gentleman  asked :  — 

"  You  learn  Greekish  ?    Not  ?  " 


A  DISTENQUISIIED  FORE  I  ONER.  119 

Brade  looked  round,  a  little  bashfully,  to  where  the 
other  boys  were,  and  then  answered  modestly  that  he 
"  had  begun  Greek." 

At  the  mention  of  this  new  language  the  Trustee, 
who  had  not  been  unintelligent  or  unmindful,  at  once 
drew  nearer. 

"  We  teach  Greek  here,  sir,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  and 
I'm  aware  that  it  is  the  language  of  the  Russians,  — 
that  is,  of  the  Russian  Church." 

"  You  are  learned  in  Greek,  self?"  asked  the  cour- 
teous foreigner. 

The  Trustee  took  care  not  to  be  drawn  into  a  conver- 
sation in  that  tongue,  if  the  lively  foreigner  had  any 
intention  of  substituting  it  for  honest  English. 

"You  must  excuse  me,  sir,"  said  he.  "I  have  two 
daughters  that  know  botany,  and  talk  about  their 
♦monogramic'  and  '  cryptogramic ; '  but  education  was 
not  so  much  attended  to  in  my  day.  I  can  do  one 
thing  in  Greek  that  not  everybody  can  do,  perhaps : 
I  know  how  to  make  Greek  Fire^^  he  added,  smiling 
with  the  consciousness  of  wit,  and  emphasizing  the  two 
important  words. 

The  foreign  gentleman  recognized  the  witticism,  and. 
acknowledged  it  by  a  good-natured  laugh.  Some  words 
in  a  very  foreign  tongue  he  uttered,  at  which  the  Trus- 
tee went  through  a  shoulder-shrugging  and  grimacing 
and  gesticulating  action,  which  no  doubt  seemed  to  him 
most  familiar  and  intelligible  to  a  foreigner,  and  was 
then  asked, — 

"  You  were  not  soldier  of  the  Greek-landish  Free- 
ings-war,  —  the  Liberation-war,  perhaps  ?  Too  young, 
I  think." 

The  Trustee  modestly  disclaimed  the  martial  char- 


120  ANTONY  BRADE. 

acter  also,  as  well  as  the  scholarly,  "  though  he  must 
confess  that  he  loved  freedom,  of  course,"  he  said.  "  He 
had  found  out  the  Greek  Fire  when  he  was  in  the  East 
Bartlett  Chemical  Works." 

The  polite  stranger  seemed  to  get  no  definite  infor- 
mation from  that  hard  proper  name,  although  the 
Trustee  repeated  it  very  distinctly.  The  latter  polite 
gentleman  therefore  changed  the  subject  for  one  which 
he,  doubtless,  thought  more  hopeful. 

"  I  believe,  sir,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  Greek 

—  the  Greek  language  —  is  still  the  language  of  the 
Church  ? "  Then,  to  make  his  meaning  plainer,  he 
added,  "  I  think  the  service-books  —  the  sacred  books 

—  are  written  in  Greek  ?  " 

The  stranger  caught  his  meaning  (as  he  testified  by  a 
courteous  wave  of  both  hands  with  a  bow  of  the  head), 
and  answered,  — 

"  *  The  Sacred  Books,'  yes ;  the  evangelium,  cer- 
tainly." 

"  And  of  the  Greek  Church,  I  believe  ?  "  interposed 
the  Trustee,  with  mild  pertinacity.  "  The  JRussian  is 
the  same,  sir,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,"  looking  as  if  he 
had  "  got "  the  stranger  now. 

The  boys,  who  had  contrived  to  come  within  hearing, 
at  the  beginning  of  this  conference  with  Brade,  now 
seeing  what  turn  the  conversation  was  likely  to  take, 
began  quietly  to  withdraw.  The  stranger-gentleman, 
seeing  this,  hastened  to  take  a  formal  leave  of  the  little 
fellow  with  whom  he  had  been  talking,  asking,  however, 
very  courteously,  "  permission  "  of  the  trustee.  Hav- 
ing obtained  this,  the  polite  stranger  turned  to 
Brade :  — 

"  I  will  give  you,"  said  he,  "  according  to  your  name : 


A  DISTINGUISHED  FOREIGNER.  121 

you  are  called  Brade ;  I  will  give  you  some  Greek  by 
your  name."  And,  taking  a  heavy  gold  pencil  fi-ora 
his  pocket,  he  wrote  upon  a  plain  card  these  words : 
^^Bgadvg  ladi  slg  OQ^r^v^^  {JBradya  isthi,  eis  orgen),  and 
gave  it  to  the  boy ;  and,  as  he  gave  it,  said  mysteri- 
ously, "There  is  a  great  secret  for  you  to  find  out. 
Some  time  you  will  find  your  name.  I  liked  very 
much  to  talk  with  you.     Adieu  ! " 

So  saying,  with  a  very  respectful  gesture,  he  took 
leave  of  little  Antony,  who  made  his  acknowledgments 
not  uncourteously,  though  hastily,  and  who  immedi- 
ately, folding  and  putting  away  in  a  pocket  the  writing, 
ran  after  his  fellows.  These,  of  course,  seeing  him 
coming,  loitered  for  him ;  and  then,  having  apparently 
persuaded  him  to  show  them  the  paper,  seemed  to  be 
for  a  few  moments  puzzling  their  boys'  brains  over  it, 
as  they  walked  with  their  heads  all  crowded  together, 
the  most  pushing  of  them  being  Will  Hirsett ;  and 
presently  after  were  all  at  play  once  more,  as  at  first. 

While  the  stranger  had  been  engaged  in  writing,  the 
Trustee,  seeing  some  one  whom  he  addressed  as  "  Mr. 
Stout  "  pass,  begged  "  to  be  excused  for  a  moment  while 
the  gentleman  was  engaged,"  and  joined  him,  saying  to 
any  who  might  hear,  that  "  he  would  be  back  imme- 
diately." 

"A  moment"  is  always  longer  than  a  speaker  or 
caller  or  shopper  (or  any  one  except  a  person  waiting) 
expects  it  to  be.  The  strange  gentleman,  finding  him- 
self alone,  walked  quietly  round  the  corner  of  the 
house,  in  the  direction  which  the  Trustee  had  lately 
taken,  and  looked.  The  broad  barn-door  stood  invit- 
ingly open,  and  sounds,  such  as  men  make,  were  coming 
forth.  He  walked  to  it  and  entered. 
6 


122  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Presently,  from  the  opposite  side,  appeared  the  Trus- 
tee. He  looked  hurriedly  this  way  and  that ;  went 
round  the  corner  of  the  school-room,  as  he  had  just 
come,  and  cast  a  hasty  glance  toward  the  boys'  play- 
ground. Then  he  looked  toward  the  different  roads  ; 
then  went  to  the  other  comer,  and  looked  toward  the 
barn,  now  sending  forth  no  sound ;  then  came  hastily 
back  to  the  front  steps. 

Here,  having  taken  one  last  look  all  round,  he 
opened,  and  shut  behind  him,  the  front  door,  and 
like  one  familiar  with  the  ways  of  the  place  passed 
up  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MR.   DON  FOLLOWS  IT  UP  A  LITTLE. 

Hanging  on  the  staircase  was  a  very  tolerable 
painting,  on  a  large  scale,  of  the  Acropolis  at  Athens, 
and  its  ruins,  by  moonlight.  Further  up,  on  the  same 
wall,  was  a  smaller  painting  of  the  Field  of  Marathon. 

Upon  each  of  these,  whether  intending  it  or  without 
any  thought,  the  lively  Trustee  turned  his  eyes  in  pass- 
ing. So,  too,  he  looked  in  passing  upon  two  engravings 
of  the  Coliseum  and  the  Tomb  of  Adrian,  which  were 
hung  upon  the  opposite  wall  of  the  upper  entry.  He 
smelt  of  one  of  the  flowers,  and  plucked  a  leaf  from 
one  of  the  geraniums,  which  were  standing  in  tiers  in 
a  sunny  bay-window  at  the  front  of  the  entry ;  but  he 
scarcely  made  the  slightest  pause  until,  with  a  familiar 
and  assured  tread,  he  reached  a  door,  which  he  gently 
and  slowly  opened  to  himself,  passing  into  the  room 
beyond.     Plere  he  did  stand  still. 

The  character  of  this  room  which  the  Trustee  had  so 
confidently  entered  would  have  declared  itself  to  any 
intelligent  eye ;  for  books,  on  their  shelves,  made  its 
chief  furniture  and  ornament.  These  were  arranged, 
not  straight  along  its  sides,  and  from  floor  to  ceiling, 
but  in  double  cases,  standing  out  as  wings  from  the 
walls  and  reaching  about  two-thirds  up,  having  books 
on  the  two  sides  and  one  end. 


124  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Busts  and  statuettes  stood  atop  of  the  several  cases, 
and  behind  and  above  these  the  room  on  the  walls  was 
given  to  handsome  photographs  and  engravings.  A 
long  black  cross  occupied  the  middle  of  the  chimney, 
with  a  strong-lined  engraving  of  Rubens's  Descent 
from  the  Cross  on  one  side,  and  a  like  engraving  of 
Raphael's  Transfiguration  on  the  other.  Underneath 
the  cross  was  an  illuminated  legend,  '■'■  Fivov  maxogP*^ 

Perhaps  a  single  intelligent  glance  would  have  taken 
in  all  this ;  and  there  was  a  moment  or  two  that  the 
Trustee  lingered  after  coming  inside  the  room,  for  the 
gentleman  who  was  busy  at  the  study-table  topk  no 
notice  of  his  entrance.  Presently,  without  looking  up, 
the  student  asked,  "Who's  there?" 

"  It's  I,  sir,"  said  the  Trustee,  with  a  gentle  voice  and 
in  unexceptionable  grammar,  such  as  became  an  official 
of  a  great  institution  of  learning,  "  Mr.  Don.  I  didn't 
wish  to  disturb  you.  How  is  Mrs.  Warren,  sir?  She's 
well,  I  hope  ?  and  the  children  ?  I  wanted  to  inquire, 
sir,  if  any  one — a  foreign  gentleman  —  had  been  to 
see  you  this  afternoon." 

Mr.  Warren  laid  down,  open,  a  book  on  which  he 
was  engaged,  and  turaed  round  to  his  visitor,  deliber- 
ately, a  large-eyed,  thoughtful  foce,  of  thirty  four  or 
five  years,  needing  a  moment  to  bring  his  eyes  to 
bear. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Don,  excuse  me ! "  he  said,  smiling  at  the 
other's  eagerness.  "You  came  in  so  quietly  that  I 
thought  it  must  be  one  of  the  family.  No ;  no  one  has 
been  here." 

"  You  were  not  far  wrong,  sir,  I  believe,"  said  the 
social  Trustee.  "  I  presume  all  who  are  connected  with 

»  "Be  faithful."  — Eev.  ii.  10. 


3fR.   DON  FOLLOWS   IT  UP  A   LITTLE.      125 

Saint  Bartholomew's  School  are,  in  one  sense,  of  a 
family  :  are  they  not,  sir  ?  Have  you  a  few  moments 
to  spare  (I'll  lay  my  things  down  here,  if  you  please," 
proceeding  to  dispose  of  his  hat  and  gloves,  with  much 
kindness  and  courtesy,  on  the  study-table,  and  seating 
himself  near  them)  —  "  for  something,"  he  then  added, 
"  which  has  an  interest  for  us  all,  I  think." 

An  announcement  of  this  kind  made  a  strong  claim 
for  attention ;  and  Mr.  "Warren  assented,  very  readily 
and  definitely,  and  turned  his  open  book,  whose  leaves 
had  been  a  little  fluttered  by  Mr.  Don's  movements, 
over  upon  its  face,  and  sat  all  ready  to  hear. 

"  I  was  very  hapjoy,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Don,  seri- 
ously, as  if  he  were  beginning  an  autobiography  (and 
Mr.  Warren  listened  "w-ith  proportionate  respect),  —  "  I 
don't  know  wdiat  you  may  think  of  it,  —  in  being  on  the 
spot  as  a  representative  of  Saint  Bartholomew's  School, 
when  something  happened  which,  I  think,  may  prove 
an  entering-wedge,  —  a  turning-point,  perhaps,  sir,  in 
the  history  of  young  Brade."  (At  this  name  his  hearer 
looked  still  more  curious  for  what  was  to  follow.) 
"  Young  Brade,  you  know,  when  he  came  to  us  was 
reported  as  flitherless  and  motherless,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken? I  believe  the  conclusion  now  is,  that  he's  a 
young  nobleman  from  abroad,  —  ah !  of  course  from 
abroad,  if  he's  a  young  nobleman  at  all,  for  we  don't 
have  them  here." 

By  this  time  his  listener  had  changed  his  attitude, 
and  his  expression  had  become  a  mixed  one  of  amuse- 
ment and  annoyance.  As  Mr.  Don  was  about  begin- 
ning again  after  this  correction  of  himself,  Mr.  Warren 
said  decidedly :  — 

"  Oh,  no ;  no,  no !  he's  a  particularly  fine  little  fellow, 


126  ANTONY  BEADS. 

but  I  don't  think  there's  any  such  mystery  about  Bratle. 
I  know  some  nonsense  has  been  talked  about  him,  in 
Eastham,  —  fun  of  Mr.  Greenwood's,  probably,  —  and 
the  boys  have  got  up  wonderful  fancies ; "  but,  after 
this  rather  unsympathizing  dash  of  cold  upon  Mr. 
Don's  account  of  his  marvellous  incident,  he  stopped. 

Mr,  Don  himself  was  for  a  moment  quite  taken 
aback;  indeed,  it  might  well  be  asked,  Now,  even  if 
Mr.  Warren's  mind,  being  sedentary  and  studious,  was 
not  so  active  as  those  of  others  in  inquiry,  why  should 
he  feel  inclined  to  set  himself  against  so  natural  and 
reasonable  an  opinion  ?     Mr.  Don's  face  was  clouded. 

"Pardon  me,  sir:"  he  said,  when  he  began  to  recover 
himself,  and  with  a  look  of  honest  astonishment  at  the 
backwardness  of  the  Head  of  the  School  in  information 
about  a  boy  under  his  charge  which  the  community 
about  him  were  well  advanced  in.  "  I  thought  it  was 
taken  for  granted  that  there  was  a  mystery  about  the 
boy,  although  we  possessed  a  clue  to  it,  or  to  a  part 
of  it." 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  Rector  of  the  School,  pleasantly,  "  I 
won't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  there  is  nothing  which 
might  be  called  a  sort  of  mystery  in  the  case.  I'm 
only  saying  that  I'm  sure  there  isn't  a  particle  of  that 
particular  mystery  about  him." 

"  In  your  opinion,  sir,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  sug- 
gest," said  the  Trustee,  very  gravely,  proposing  a  cor- 
rection ;  "  but  I  mixst  be  pardoned  if  I  can't  quite  agree 
with  you,  sir.  I'm  surprised  that  there  should  be  so 
great  a  difference."  Then  he  added  very  patiently, 
"  Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  give  an  account  of  the 
adventure  in  which  I  was  a  party  myself,  and  which  is 
certainly  not  a  little  remarkable.     It  may  affect  your 


MR.  DON  FOLLOWS  IT  UP  A  LITTLE.      127 

own  opinion,  sir.  I  hold  in  my  hand  an  important 
testimony  to  the  character  of  the  stranger,"  and  he  pro- 
duced what  seemed  a  letter,  or  the  envelope  of  a  letter. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Rector  of  the  School,  cheerfully, 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  about  the  adventure,  by  all 
means ; "  and  (having  for  whatever  reason  committed 
himself  already  to  the  other  side)  he  looked  both  amused 
and  curious. 

"  We  may  differ,  sir,  as  to  the  bearing  of  the  inci- 
dent," said  Mr.  Don,  who  was  at  no  loss  for  well-chosen 
words ;  "  but  I  think  we  shall  hardly  differ  as  to  its 
intei'est  and  importance.  As  I  came  up  toward  the 
School,  about  half  an  hour  ago,  I  observed  quite  a 
foreign-looking  gentleman  —  a  man  of  distinction,  I 
think  I  may  say,  sir  —  standing  at  the  front  door,  look- 
ing at  our  emblem.  I  offered  my  services,  and  told 
him  the  character  of  our  institution.  At  the  time,  a 
number  of  boys  were  playing  on  the  upper  ground  :  he 
singled  out  Brade,  and  asked  if  he  might  speak  with 
him ;  said  a  great  deal  to  him  about  his  name,  and  said 
there  was  a  mystery  about  it,  which  Brade  would  find 
out  some  day;  said  that  Brade  was  like  his  father  in 
being  fond  of  play.  Oh  !  I  almost  forgot,  sir :  he  said 
it  was  his  first  wish  to  see  Brade,  and  he  gave  the  boy 
a  Greek  sentence,  as  he  said, '  for  his  name.'  The  Greek 
was  very  striking,  sir.  If  all  I  supposed  was  Greek 
was  Greek,  he  talked  it  as  I  talk  English.  The  re- 
markable thing  about  that  is,  that  Greek,  if  I'm  not 
misinformed  (perhaps  you  can  instruct  me  better,  sir), 
is  the  language  of  the  Greek  Church,  —  I  should  say, 
of  the  Russian  Church.  That  seems  to  me  an  impor- 
tant item,  sir." 

During  the  telling  of  this  story,  Mr.  Warren's  look 


128  ANTONY  BRADE. 

of  amused  curiosrty  had  undergone  some  change,  and 
he  now  looked  a  little  puzzled  besides. 

"If  it  had  been  so,  why  should  he  say  so  much,  and 
yet  say  no  more  ?  And  did  this  remarkable  foreigner 
say  all  this  before  you  f  "  he  asked. 

"Not  exactly  before  me,  sir,  —  I  was  at  some  dis- 
tance." 

"  He  was  at  the  house-door  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Warren, 
again. 

"But  he  wouldn't  come  in,  sir.  I  asked  him,  of 
course,  and  he  made  a  pretence  of  inquiring  whether 
this  was  a  hotel." 

"  People  do  that,  now  and  then :  we're  a  big  building, 
and  look  something  like  it,  outside ;  and  we  were  a 
famous  hotel,  you  know,  once." 

"  But  you  see,  sir,"  said  the  Trustee,  who  looked 
deeper  into  things,  "  he  would  very  naturally  do  that, 
if  he  was  desirous  of  concealment." 

Mr.  Warren  smiled ;  but  it  may  have  been  that  the 
Trustee  was  too  much  taken  up  with  what  he  was  tell- 
ing, to  see  the  smile. 

"And  Where's  the  wonderful  paper  ttat  he  gave 
Brade  for  his  name  ?  "  asked  the  Rector  of  St.  Bart's 
School. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  Trustee,  with  alacrity, "  I  took  the 
precaution ;  but  I  would  first  take  the  liberty  of  sug- 
gesting, sir,  might  it  not  be  well,  in  vie<v  of  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  case,  to  send  Mr.  Stout  after  him  ?  A 
little  attention,  perhaps,  might  not  be  altogether  thrown 
away.  Beside  the  immediate  result  to  Brade,  I  see  the 
possibility  of  an  important  connection  for  our  school 
in  the  future."     (Mr.  Don  was  a  business  man.) 

"  But,  if  he  declined  to  come  in,  I  don't  think  we 


MB.   BON  FOLLOWS  IT  UP  A  LITTLE.      129 

can  well  force  him  in,  can  we?  He's  gone  away?" 
said  Mr.  Warren.  "  If  he  had  wished  to  come  in,  I 
should  have  been  glad  to  see  him." 

"  Yes,  sir :  he's  gone  away ;  but  it'll  be  an  hour  or 
two  before  he  can  take  the  cars  for  Weston,"  said  Mr. 
Don,  taking  out  and  consulting  his  watch. 

"  He's  going  to  Weston,  then,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir :  '  to  see  the  manufactories,'  he  said  ;  though 
I  suppose  it  would  be  easy  to  explain  that  consistently 
with  the  theory :  he  comes  here  first  and  sees  Brade, 
and  then  says  'he  has  made  a  mistake,  and  is  on  his 
way  to  see  the  Weston  factories.'  I  should  say  that 
might  be  easily  reconciled:  doesn't  it  strike  you  so, 
sir  ?  It  seems  to  me  nothing  is  simpler,"  said  the  Trus- 
tee, with  much  animation  over  a  living  secret  involving 
foreigners  (perhaps,  too,  foreigners  of  the  most  exalted 
rank)  which  was  now  passing  toward  its  discovery,  in 
open  air,  through  the  channel  of  his  own  intelligence. 
"  Perhaps,  if  it  wouldn't  be  too  much  trouble  for  you, 
sir,  to  make  a  chance  for  a  few  words  with  him,  you 
would  easily"  — 

"  No,"  said  the  Rector,  with  singular  indifference  to 
the  opportunity,  "I  think  I  won't  do  any  thing  about 
him.  You've  got  the  paper  that  you  were  going  to 
show  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don,  with  less  animation,  "  I 
took  the  precaution  (you  think  nothing  is  to  be  done, 
sir)  to  go  round  the  house  and  head  Brade.  It  was 
then  he  disappeared.  I  made  this  copy,  however, 
hastily,"  —  and  here  he  presented  an  envelope.  "  If 
it  will  give  you  too  much  trouble,  sir,"  he  added,  in  a 
tone  of  disappointment,  "  Mr.  Parmenter,  I  know,  has 
Greek  dictionaries." 

6*  I 


130  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  Oh !  I'll  give  what  help  I  can ;  but  why  not  the 
paper  itself,  instead  of  a  copy  ?  " 

"Why  not,  indeed,  sir?  You  remind  me;  I  didn't 
think  of  that.  I'll  get  it,  and  return  it  to  the  boy ;  " 
and  Mr.  Don  disappeared,  after  snatching  up  his  hat 
and  gloves,  and  bowing  to  the  Rector  of  the  School,  who 
was  sitting  at  the  moment  thinking,  and  smiling  at  his 
thought. 

Mr.  Warren,  now,  as  his  visitor  was  departing,  re- 
called himself,  and  turned  to  his  work  again. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MB.   BON  HAS   HOLD   OF  A   CLUE, 

Looking  neither  at  the  Tomb  of  Adrian,  nor  at 
the  Coliseum,  nor  at  the  Field  of  Marathon,  nor  at 
the  Acropolis  of  Athens,  on  his  way,  Mr.  Don,  full 
of  his  business,  went  straight  about  his  errand.  The 
boys  had  moved ;  but  he  sought  them  out,  secured 
Brade,  and  then,  followed  at  a  little  distance  by  the  rest, 
came  back.  It  was  a  coincidence  that,  while  with  a 
single  purpose  he  was  walking  toward  the  play-ground, 
the  mysterious  stranger  came  quietly  along  from  the 
barn,  and  with  Mr.  Stout,  acting  apparently  as  guide, 
went  toward  the  eastern  road. 

Mr.  Don  ascertained  from  the  boy,  as  they  walked, 
that  he  had  no  recollection  of  ever  having  seen  the 
stranger  before  that  day ;  and  he  also  made  sure,  by 
judicious  questions,  that  Antony  had  had  no  sympa- 
thetic or  instinctive  drawings  toward  the  supposed 
agent.  While  Mr.  Don,  and  Antony  in  his  company, 
were  thus  making  their  way  through  the  front  door, 
and  up  the  main  staircase,  the  rest  of  the  boys  — 
Brade's  playmates  —  went  as  straight  to  the  back  door 
and  up  by  their  own  way,  to  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Rector's  study.  From  that  room  a  sharp  ear  might 
have  caught  the  confused  sound  of  feet  and  murmur  of 
young  tongues  after  the  door  had  opened  and  let  in 
Antony  Brade,  together  with  the  returning  Trustee. 


132  ANTONY  DRADE. 


The  mysterious  boy  (looking  not  at  all  mysterious) 
was  affectionately  saluted  by  the  Head  of  the  School, 
and  was  invited  to  a  seat,  but  managed  nevertheless  to 
keep  his  feet ;  and  then,  with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  looked 
from  side  to  side  at  the  throng  of  books. 

"  They  followed  me,  sir.  I  thought  you'd  allow  them 
to  come  as  far  as  the  entry  outside,"  said  Mr.  Don,  as 
if  in  explanation  of  the  sounds  which  had  attended 
him.  ("  This  is  the  paper,  sir,  that  I  spoke  of.  I 
brought  Master  Brade  with  me.)  The  others  may  pos- 
sibly afford  additional  information." 

Mr.  Warren  was  looking  at  the  card  which  had  been 
put  into  his  hand. 

"  Shall  I  find  a  lexicon,  sir  ?  (I  think  that's  what  we 
used  to  call  them  when  I  went  to  Master  Bradish,  at 
the  Hollow,  in  our  town  ").  And  the  intelligent  gentle- 
man, who  with  his  eye-glasses  was  already  scrutinizing, 
at  random  and  afar,  the  backs  of  books  in  different 
directions,  on  the  shelves,  was  eager  to  search. 

At  the  word  "  lexicon,"  Antony  first  allowed  his  eyes 
to  wander  about  the  crowded  bookcases,  and  then 
turned  them  timidly  at  the  lofty  embodiment  of  scholar- 
ship who  presided  over  St.  Bart's  School,  and  to  whom 
was  referred  now  a  question  of  interpretation  in  which 
the  boy  was  himself  concerned.  Very  possibly,  if  he 
knew  of  Pericles  and  Plato  (and  he  at  least  knew  of 
Xenophon),  there  may  have  been  a  question  in  his 
mind  whether  Greek  was  about  as  easy  to  the  Rector 
as  it  had  been  to  the  men  of  old  days.  If  so,  he  w^as 
probably  comforted  when  he  heai'd  the  Head  of  St. 
Bart's  thank  Mr.  Don,  and  decline  the  help  proposed  ; 
and  he  showed  all  interest  when  that  learned  man 
began  to  read  from  tlie  paper :  — 


MR.   DON  HAS  BOLD   OF  A   CLUE.  133 

^^^ B  Q  a  d  vg  tadi  sig  OQyr^v^  That  seems  plain 
enough,  and  a  good  motto  too,  —  'Be  slow  to  wrath.' 
The  first  four  letters  are  emphasized  "  — 

"  Oh  !  that's  it,"  said  the  Trustee.  "  I  saw  they  were 
written  wide  "  (which  showed  that  the  worthy  man  had 
good  eyes).  Then  he  added,  with  the  scrupulous  polite- 
ness which  seemed  habitual  with  him,  "  May  I  inquire 
what  they  are,  sir,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  They  spell  '  Brad,' "  said  the  reader,  who  perhaps 
had  some  curiosity  to  know  what  all  this  inquiry  of  Mr. 
Don's  was  going  to  lead  to. 

"  Would  you  be  kind  enough,  sir,  to  read  the  orig- 
inal —  the  Greek  —  once  more  ?  "  said  the  inquiring 
Trustee,  sliding  forward  on  his  chair,  to  bring  both 
ears  nearer  to  the  reader. 

Antony  listened  in  very  good  humor,  if  not  so 
eagerly. 

The  interpreter  of  the  cabalistic  sentence  complied 
at  once,  very  obligingly,  and  read  aloud  the  words, 
emphasizing  distinctly  the  syllable  which,  as  he  said, 
was  written  as  emphatic.  "  That  first  syllable  '  Brad,' " 
said  he,  "  must  be,  as  the  mysterious  gentleman  said, . 
'  for  our  young  friend's  name.'  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Antony,  to  this  about  his  name ;  and 
then,  when  he  found  that  he  had  spoken  impulsively, 
without  having  been  addressed,  he  blushed  and  looked 
abashed,  like  a  modest  young  fellow,  well  brought  up. 

The  Rector  of  the  School  smiled  upon  him,  and 
said,  — 

"  It's  near  enough,  you  see,  Anty,  for  a  play  upon 
words.  The  truth  is,  a  foreigner  couldn't  get  our 
English  a  in  your  name  very  easily,  and  couldn't 
put  it  into  Greek ;  but  I  think  he  must  have  been  a 


134  ANTONY  BRADE. 


pretty  learned  Theban.  Did  he  talk  a  great  deal  of 
Greek?" 

"  I  said  I  thought  I  could  make  Greek  Fire,"  said 
Mr.  Don,  "  and  then  he  went  off  with  what  I  aupposed 
was  Greek." 

"  A  happy  thought  of  yours,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  War- 
ren, laughing. 

Antony  modestly  inquired  whether  the  Thebans 
were  very  learned ;  Mr.  Don  listening,  as  to  some- 
thing which  might  or  might  not  bear  upon  the  main 
question. 

"  No,"  said  the  Head  of  the  School,  going  very  readily 
into  the  subject  with  the  boy,  "  the  Thebans  were 
Boeotians.  Pindar  was  a  Theban,  to  be  sure ;  but  they 
were  contrasted  with  the  Athenians,  though  no  part  of 
their  country  was  more  than  fifty  miles,  perhaps,  from 
Attica.  '  Boiotum  crasso  jurares  aere  natum,'  Horace 
says,  as  you'll  find  some  day  when  you  get  to  him. 
They  were  stupid." 

By  this  time  the  Trustee  was  only  politely  waiting 
for  a  pause. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  civilly  raighc. 
"  That  first  word  or  syllable,  whichever  it  may  be,  I 
think  you  said  was  '  Brad,'  without  the  e,  if  I  under- 
stand rightly.  Would  you  be  so  good  as  to  road  tlie 
next  two  syllables,  or  words,  as  the  case  may  be  ?  " 

Mr.  Warren  at  once  complied,  and  read  with  patient 
distinctness :  — 

"'r?  ("(j'"  —  (us,  is). 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  Trustee,  whose  ears  must  have  been 
as  good  as  his  eyes,  "  there  was  another  sound.  What 
is  the  next  syllable,  if  you  please?" 

Mr.  Warren  again  complied  obligingly,  and  read  the 
syllable  '  ^f,'  (thi). 


MR.   DON  HAS  HOLD  OF  A   CLUE.  135 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  that's  the  sound  that  I  missed. 
The  two  would  make  '  isthy.'  Now,  sir,  pardon  me  for 
troubling  you  with  another  question  (I  think  we  may 
come  to  something).  Are  the  syllables  which,  if  I 
heard  you  rightly,  you  pronounced  'isthy,'  emphatic, 
as  you  said  '  Brad '  was  ?  " 

Being  assured  that  the  two  syllables  were  not  em- 
phatic, he  continued,  with  animation  enough  to  draw 
Antony's  attention,  and  very  likely  to  excite  some 
curiosity  in  the  Rector  of  St.  Bart's  School :  — 

"  Then,  sii",  one  more  question  :  Could  that  be  made 
'  inski '  or  '  iski '  ?  "  Then  he  added,  as  if  repeating  to 
himself,  "  Bradinski,  —  Bradiski." 

"  No  :  I  wish  it  might,  if  it  would  do  you  any  good  ; 
but  Greek  is  as  definite  as  any  thing  ever  was.  ^"Jadi '  is 
ladi "  (isthi  is  isthi). 

"  Perhaps,  sir,"  said  the  unwearied  investigator,  "  you 
would  do  me  the  favor  to  write  'iski'  and  'inski'  in 
Greek  ?  "  and  he  supported  his  request  by  holding  out 
his  paper  and  pencil. 

Mr.  Warren  wrote  as  he  was  desired,  saying,  while 
he  wrote,  — 

"  Now  shall  I  dispose  of  your  boys,  outside  there, 
and  Master  Brade,  here  ?  I  suppose  they  would  like 
to  be  off" 

"  Oh !  certainly,  sir ;  certainly,"  said  the  Trustee. 
"I  thought  you  might  wish  to  question  them." 

"  Call  them  in,  please,  Anty,"  said  the  Rector ;  and  in 
a  moment  thi'ee  or  four  boys  were  ushered  in,  among 
whom  was  Remsen,  and  among  whom,  too,  was  Will 
Hirsett,  conspicuous  by  the  grinning  of  his  broad 
mouth. 

"Boys !  "  said  the  Rector,  "  we  hear  that  there  was  a 


136  ANTONY  BRADE. 

wonderful  learned  gentleman  here  this  afternoon.  Mr. 
Don  says  he  talked  Greek ;  and  I  want  to  see  if  we  can 
make  out  what  it  was  he  said." 

Will  Hirsett  hitched  himself  up  a  little,  as  if  prepar- 
ing for  his  part  of  witness.  The  other  boys  looked  a 
little  blank. 

"  Mr.  Don  told  him  something  about  '  Greek  Fire,* 
and  then  the  gentleman  said  some  Greek." 

"  We  can't  remember  Greek,  sir,"  said  Remsen.  "  If 
it  had  been  English,  we  might." 

"  If  you  was  to  say  it  over,  sir,"  said  Will  Hirsett, 
less  afraid  of  trying  to  fill  a  few  gaps  in  authentic  his- 
tory than  Remsen  appeared  to  be. 

The  Rector  laughed.  "I  must  guess,  you  know," 
he  said.  "  Was  it  '  xb  tivq  to  silr^vimv '  ?  *  or  '  ^  q)X6^ 
ygaixt] '  ?  "  f 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Will  Hirsett,  with  gratifying  prompt- 
ness. 

"Which,  Will?"  asked  his  Master,  while  the  boys 
laughed. 

"  I  think  that  was  it,  sir,  —  what  you  said,"  answered 
the  well-inclined  witness.  Even  Mr.  Don  seemed 
amused. 

"  'H  q}X6^  yQumj  ?  "  t  asked  his  examiner. 

«  Yes,  sir,"  said  Will.     "  I  think  that  was  it." 

"  Or  TO  TtvQ  TO  IXXtiviyiov  ?  "  * 

"  It's  one  or  the  other,  sir,"  answered  Will  Hirsett, 
with  unvarying  satisfaction  at  being  able  to  confer  a 
favor  of  this  sort  upon  the  head  of  the  school. 

"  Thank  you,  William,"  said  the  Rector,  sending  a 
glow  of  added  pleasure  over  the  boy's  beaming  face. 

*  Hellenic  Fire.  t  Greek  flame. 


MR.   DON  HAS  HOLD  OF  A  CLUE.  137 

"Your  testimony  is  worth  fully  as  much  as  a  good  deal 
that  people  give,  about  a  thing  they  don't  know." 

This  commendation  completed  William's  gratifica- 
tion ;  and  he  handled  his  hat  as  if  expecting  that  they 
would  all  be  dismissed  now,  because  nothing  could  well 
be  added  to  what  he  had  done. 

So  it  was. 

"Now  you  may  go  and  play.  Don't  forget  that 
Greek,  Will."  And,  promising  not  to  forget,  Hirsett 
modestly  led  the  way  from  the  Rector's  study. 

Mr.  Warren  took  his  book  once  more. 

"  How  do  you  get  on  with  '  inski '  and  '  iski '  ?  "  he 
asked  of  the  thoughtful  Trustee. 

"  If  you  say,  sir,  that  '  isthi '  couldn't  be  a  hint  for 
'  inski '  or  '  iski '  —  (certainly  the  sound  might  suggest 
).  I  won't  take  up  your  time,"  said  Mr.  Don,  regret- 
fully or  almost  reproachfully,  as  if,  somehow,  the  Rector 
of  the  School  was  a  little  obstructive  to  science ;  and  so 
he  took  his  leave. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  MAKING   OF  A  LANGUAGE. 

There  are  very  pretty  walks,  in  different  directions, 
near  St.  Bart's  School.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
these,  up  hill  and  down,  and  with  many  windings 
among  barberry-bushes  and  other  shrubs  and  low  trees, 
was,  in  spite  of  its  beauty,  very  little  used ;  for  it  was 
only  a  short  lane  off  West  Road,  not  leading  through 
to  any  road,  and  was  in  one  place  —  beyond  the  houses 
—  wet,  where  it  met  a  marsh.  Just  beyond  that  marsh 
it  came  to  an  end,  near  a  disused  brick-kiln. 

It  is  not  always  bright  weather,  even  in  the  whole- 
some country ;  and  those  rains  had  apparently  now  set 
in  which  are  said  to  "  fill  the  stream  s  before  winter." 
It  was  on  a  day  which  gave  little  encouragement  to 
walking  (for  it  had  rained  a  good  deal)  that  there  were 
sitting  on  a  smooth  rock,  under  very  thick  evergreen 
branches,  at  the  side  of  this  lane,  a  girl  and  a  boy. 
The  grass  which  bordered  the  roadway  was,  by  this 
time  of  the  year,  scanty  and  weak,  and  the  leaves  of 
most  ti-ees  were  much  thinned  out;  but  everywhere, 
unless  under  the  covert  where  the  children  sat,  was 
moist. 

The  boy  we  have  seen  so  often  before  that  we  know 
him  at  once  as  Antony  Brade :  the  girl,  who  was 
dressed  in  plain  black,  was  pale,  with  an  interesting 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  LANGUAGE.  139 

and  thoughtful  face,  but  brightened  now,  as  by  the 
boy's  company.  She  was  rather  older  and  taller  than 
her  companion,  —  possibly  wiser  also,  for,  at  least  just 
now,  she  talked  less  and  listened  more.  Now  and  then 
she  leaned  forward,  —  sometimes  leaving  her  seat  and 
walking  a  step  or  two  into  the  road,  and  looked  each 
way.  Then  she  took  her  old  position  and  listened, 
smiling,  and  as  if  ready  for  her  turn  to  speak.  Young 
Brade  was  beating  the  damp  ground  with  a  stick,  —  his 
hat  lying  meanwhile  beside  him  on  the  rock,  —  and  all 
the  time  he  was  speaking  in  rather  a  low  voice,  but 
earnestly,  and,  as  it  would  seem,  upon  the  same  subject 
which  had  occasioned  so  much  speculation  and  discus- 
sion among  people,  young  and  old,  of  his  acquaintance, 
—  his  origin  or  condition. 

«  Oh !  I  can  do  it !  "  he  said.  "  But  it'll  be  pretty 
hard,  sometimes;  but  you'll  see.  Some  things  I  don't 
like,  —  if  I  could  only  have  your  house  for  home  :  it's 
just  as  if  I'd  got  no  home  and  no  family." 

The  girl  very  cheerfully  answered,  tossing  her  head 
with  each  merry  exclamation  of  contempt :  — 

"  Pooh !  pooh !  pooh  !  pooh !  pooh !  poo-ooh  !  Master 
Antony,  never  mind  !  it'll  come  right,  by  and  by,  please 
God ; "  (and  she  seated  herself  on  her  seat,  adjusting  her 
dress).  "  It  won't  be  long,  first,  and  then  you  can  be 
as  happy  as  you  please.  Master  Antony  Brade." 

This  she  said  with  a  tone  of  good  cheer,  that  comes 
by  natural  gift  to  womanhood,  young  or  old.  The 
boy's  spirits  seemed  more  like  the  sky  and  the  weather : 
still,  as  we  have  already  seen,  it  was  not  another's 
strong  spii-it  or  cheery  voice  that  was  needed  to  give 
him  strength.  He  turned  to  her,  with  a  pretence  of 
frowning,  and  raised  his  stick,  threateningly  :  — 


140  ANTONY  BBADE. 


"  Don't  call  me  that !  don't  call  me  Master  Antony ! " 
he  said  di'olly.  "  When  we  are  all  by  ourselves,  I  am 
sure  you  might  call  me  '  Anty '  or  '  Tony.' " 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  said,  shaking  her  head  and  smiling 
as  she  did  so,  and  with  a  very  lively  and  determined 
tone,  indeed,  "  No  1 " 

Then  she  added,  with  a  very  ceremonious  voice  and 
manner,  "  When  would  I  do  it  at  all.  Master  Antony, 
if  not  when  we  are  all  by  ourselves  ?  Come !  we  mustn't 
lose  our  time.  Isn't  it  good  we've  got  our  bower  ?  " 
(spreading  her  arms,  but  rather  narrowly,  as  if  to  avoid 
shaking  down  the  wet,  and  looking  about  upon  their 
quarters),  "  and  we  are  able  to  meet,  so  that  tmy 
way  we'll  not  forget  each  other."  This,  too,  she  said 
mirthfully,  emphasizing  rather  excessively  the  last 
words.  Here  she  turned  her  face  round  in  front  of  his, 
putting  up  her  chin  pertly,  and  receiving  in  return 
a  little  slap  upon  the  cheek.  So  their  narrow  retreat 
was  pretty  merry  and  comfortable. 

"  Well,  we'll  begin  our  language  right  oif,"  said 
Antony,  in  his  enthusiasm  throwing  up  the  stick  with 
which  he  was  beating  the  earth  so  high  that  he  struck 
one^of  the  heavy,  low-hanging,  evergreen  boughs,  and 
brought  a  whole  shower  of  raindrops  down  upon  them 
both.  At  this  both  burst  into  happy  laughter,  and  he 
shook  his  curly,  head,  and  she  wiped  her  dress  with  a 
handkerchief. 

"  Suppose,"  said  he,  as  older  philosophers  have 
made  their  suppositions,  sometimes  stretching  very  far 
out  into  moving  causes  and  into  the  strengths  and 
fastnesses  of  nature,  and  sometimes,  too,  bringing 
great  discoveries  to  men,  —  "  suppose  we  should  shake 
all  the  wet  down,  and  then  there  wouldn't  be  any  more 
to  come." 


TEE  MAKING   OF  A  LANGUAGE.  141 

Here  was  a  philosophical  principle  involved  which 
the  girl  seemed  to  regard  with  little  respect.  "  Why, 
you  foolish  hoy ! "  she  said,  laugliing  heartily  again, 
"  wouldn't  you  get  all  wet  yourself,  shaking  it  down  ? 
and  wet  all  our  bower,  and  our  seats?  What  a  boy 
you  are ! " 

His  foolish  supposition  coming  back  to  him  in  this 
shape  of  absurdity,  he  could  not  help  laughing  again ; 
so,  under  those  trees,  damp  as  things  were  all  about, 
was  as  cheery  a  place  as  under  many  a  well-shingled 
or  well-slated  shelter  from  the  weather.  Tlie  girl  ran 
quickly  forward  to  make  her  usual  reconnoissance,  and 
back  again,  and,  having  seated  herself  as  befoi*e, 
smoothed  out  her  lap,  and  said  with  great  spirit :  — 

"Now  let's  begin  !  Who's  got  any  paper?"  and  she 
felt,  long  and  thoroughly,  in  the  only  pocket  she  had, 
without  bringing  out  any  thing  more  to  the  purpose 
than  a  crumpled  bit,  on  which  were  what  looked  like 
sums  in  Arithmetic.  This,  they  both  said,  would  not 
do ;  and  Antony  kept  on  going  through  his  pockets, 
which  he  had  already  gone  through  more  than  once ; 
but  his  search  resulted  in  his  finding  nothing  more  than 
a  few  small  rolls  and  foldings  and  crumples  of  paper, — • 
all  of  which,  he  said,  were  precious,  as  having  parts  of 
a  WOKK  in  Greek  and  Latin  on  them,  —  and  a  single 
brown  scrap,  in  which  were  wrapped  up  three  or  four 
small  stones,  a  few  black  seeds  or  berries,  and  a  tangle 
of  twine.  He  restored  the  first,  carefully  and  ceremo- 
niously, to  his  waistcoat,  and  folded  and  squeezed  up  the 
latter  again,  and  put  it  back  into  his  coat,  and  then 
they  both  agreed  that  perhaps  they  could  find  a  place 
on  the  rejected  sum-paper,  and  ended  by  saying  that 
"there  was  plenty  of  room,  and  it  would  do  splendidly." 


142  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Now  they  spread  it  all  out,  and,  after  hastily  looking 
it  all  over,  set  themselves  to  their  work ;  and  with  what 
spirit  they  went  about  it!  One  corner  of  Brade's 
pocket  furnished  a  pencil,  caught  in  inextricable 
meshes  of  pack-thread,  and  released  after  Alexander 
the  Great's  fashion. 

Nothing  (unless  looks)  was  ever  so  touching,  so  mov- 
ing, so  overcoming,  so  full  of  life  and  kinship  as  words ; 
and  how  hai-d  it  is  for  the  fire  of  life  to  die  out  of  them ! 
Language  —  any  worthy  and  noble  language  that  we 
know  —  is  so  great  and  wonderful  that  men  of  long 
thought  and  study  are  arguing,  in  books,  whether 
speech  is  a  gift  straight  from  God,  or  was  felt  out  and 
followed  on  by  men's  own  wit  and  need.  But  who  has 
not,  with  some  school-crony,  knowing  or  not  knowing 
what  Cadmus  did  for  Greece,  boldly  made  up  a  lan- 
guage and  sported  it  sometimes  in  the  hearing  of 
grown-up  men ;  and  initiated,  with  some  show  of  form, 
a  playmate  or  two  into  its  secrets  ;  dropped  some  of  its 
words  upon  the  pages  of  a  letter  sent  home,  and  left 
them  unexplained,  —  his  heart  beating  pretty  high,  and 
his  eye  glistening  at  thought  of  what  conjectures  would 
be  there  indulged,  about  the  very  deep  things  that 
school  boys  get  into !  Let  our  readers  who  are  curious 
in  philepy,  or  speech-liking,  look  closely  to  the  doings 
of  these  two  intelligent  children  of  different  sexes. 
Here  they  will  be  likely  to  get  as  reasonable  and  fair 
an  account  of  the  way  in  which  languages  originate,  as 
from  the  twins  of  Psammitiohus,  who  §s^og  t(p(6prfaav 
(made  the  sound  of  the  goat)  or  made  their  first  utter- 
ance in  Scythian,  or  those  of  the  Scottish  king  who 
pushed  straight  out  into  the  world  of  speech  with  well- 
formed  Hebrew. 


TEE  MAKING  OF  A   LANGUAGE.  143 

Antony  Brade  and  the  young  girl,  his  companion,  were 
now  set  down  to  the  making  of  a  language.  A  diffi- 
culty presents  itself  before  they  begin. 

"Thei'e  are  as  many  words  in  the  English  language," 
said  Antony,  "  as  one  hundred  thousand !  we  couldn't 
make  as  many  as  that ;  "  and  he  laughed. 

"  Why,  we  don't  want  as  many  as  that,  to  say  all 
we've  got  to  say,"  said  the  girl ;  and  she  belonged  to 
tlie  sex  who  make  the  most  use  of  that  and  other  lan- 
guages, and  might  be  expected  to  know.  "  We  could 
say  every  thing  with  only  a  few." 

"  How  many  should  we  have  to  have,  Kate?"  asked 
Brade, —  "two  hundred  ?  We  couldn't  get  along  with 
two  hundred,  could  we,  if  people  use  a  hundred  thou- 
sand ?  " 

"  Let's  begin,"  said  Kate ;  "  only  you  must  remember 
and  call  me  '  Miss  Ryan.' " 

"  Pooh ! "  said  Brade,  at  the  last  part  of  the  sentence. 
She  looked  thoughtfully  at  her  paper. 

There  they  sat,  and  did  not  begin.  The  first  start 
was  made  by  Brade :  — 

"  Let's  call  mud  '  inodo^  "  he  proposed,  working  the 
end  of  his  stick  in  the  earth,  "  and  we  must  change 
all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet :  how  shall  we  do 
that?" 

"  We  shan't  have  to  do  that,"  said  Kate.  "  Different 
languages  have  the  same  letters,  and  yet  that  doesn't 
mak3  the  languages  the  same.  If  you  changed  all  tlie 
words  as  inuch  as  '  modo,'  you  wouldn't  have  to  change 
the  letters." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Antony,  brightening  up  as  the  task 
was  narrowed  down,  "  if  you  only  want  words,  I  know 
a  way  Russell  made  when  he  was  in  the  Second  Form  j 


144  ANTONY  BRADE. 

but  then  he  let  everybody  into  it  at  last,  so  that  a 
great  many  people  could  read  it.  We've  got  to  have 
one  that  nobody  can  read  but  just  us  two." 

"  But  we  needn't  do  just  the  same  that  he  did.  How 
did  his  way  go,  Master  Antony  ?  "  she  asked,  emphasizing 
the  name,  but  looking  up  and  smiling. 

He  was  thinking ;  but,  as  soon  as  he  understood  what 
she  had  just  been  saying,  he  raised  his  stick,  which  he 
had  still  held,  though  no  longer  playing  with  it,  and 
threatened  her,  drawing  a  frown  upon  his  face  over  the 
smile  which  kept  place  at  his  roguish  young  mouth. 
Then  he  came  back  to  business. 

"  Oh !  let  me  see,"  said  he,  conning  the  composition 
which  was  to  be  the  ground  on  which  they  were  to 
work  out  their  language. 

"  I  must  look  out,"  said  the  watchful  girl ;  and  made 
her  walk  to  the  road,  and  turned  her  eyes  up  and  down 
it  quickly,  and  then  came  quickly  back. 

He  had  been  studying  the  written  words. 

"  Russell's  way  was  to  leave  a  letter  out,"  said  Brade. 
"  But  I  don't  believe  he  meant  it  to  be  hard  ;  and,  if  a 
word  was  a  long  word,  he'd  leave  out  two.  But  any- 
body could  find  that  out.  Suppose  we  should  leave 
out  half  a  word  ?  " 

"  Well,  don't  let's  begin  to  write,  until  we've  chosen 
what  we'll  have  ;  because  we  haven't  got  much  paper," 
said  Kate.    "  Take  a  word." 

Antony  looked  up  into  the  air,  as  if  words  and 
ideas  floated  there,  and  before  long  had  got  a  word. 

"'Therefore'  's  a  good  word.  Suppose  I  want  to  write 
to  you,  '  therefore  I  can't  come.'  I'd  write  '  fore,'  but 
then,"  continued  he,  hesitating,  —  "  you  can't  take  half 
of 'I'"  — 


THE  MAKING   OF  A  LANGUAGE.  145 

"  Make  it  small,"  said  Kate,  —  "  make  it  little  '  i,'  with 
a  dot :  '  fore  (little)  i,  not  me.'  There  !  they  couldn't 
make  that  out." 

"  Now,  sujjpose  I  want  to  say,  '  I've  got  another  ball,' 
or 'I've  caught  a  muskrat,'  —  little  H''-'e'  (how  far 
have  we  got?)  '  I've-got-a-muskrat,'  —  I,  —  no,  little 
i-e,  —  how  are  you  going  to  divide  '  got '  ?  —  leave  the 
^on? — No:  I'll  tell  you.  He  had  another  way.  It 
was  :  Take  a  letter  from  one  place  and  put  it  in  another 
place ;  take  a  hind-letter  and  put  it  in  front.  He  left 
his  book  down  for  anybody  to  find  out ;  but  nobody 
but  me  ever  found  out,  and  I  never  told  anybody.  It's 
a  real  good  way.     Let's  try  that." 

Now  that  tilings  looked  more  definite,  the  paper 
came  forth  and  was  put  to  use.  Antony  had  a  pen- 
cil, and  Kate  Ryan  wrote  for  both.  Brade  proposed 
the  making  of  a  regular  letter,  which  was  to  run  in  this 
way :  — 

" '  Dear  Kate,  I  got  your  letter,  and  was  very  glad 
when  I  got  it.  I  got  it  last  evening.  I  am  glad  to 
hear  that  all  are  well.     I  went  a  trapping,  and  I '  "  — 

"  Not  so  fast !  "  said  Kate,  whose  fingers  went  pretty 
well,  considering  the  dampness.  "  There  !  nov/  you've 
got  enough  for  a  beginning.  There !  you  can  take 
that"  (tearing  off  what  was  already  written).  "Let's 
keep  'THE  LANGUAGE'  all  on  a  separate  piece. 
You  read." 

To  this  arrangement  the  boy  assented  with  great 
readiness. 

"  You  must  only  say  '  Kate,'  not  '  dear  Kate.' " 
("  Well !  "  said  he,  as  if  he  did  not  care  to  argue  that 
point  any  more).  " '  Ekat^  "  —  she  continued,  writ- 
ing. 

7  J 


146  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Let's  always  put  'Z'  on  to  another  word,"  suggested 
Antony,  following  his  paper. 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  '•'■^  Ehati-tgo- ' "  (following  his 
dictation,  which  he  said  was  like  Caesar's,  —  only  he 
wanted  a  few  more  scribes)  " '  ryou  —  rlette  —  dan  — 
swa  —  yver  —  dgla  —  nwhe  —  itgo  —  tV  " 

They  did  not  get  along  quite  so  fast  as  we  have  gone, 
for  they  made  and  corrected  a  mistake  or  two ;  but  this 
was  the  result  which  they  came  to,  at  the  end  of  the 
first  sentence ;  and  there  they  stopped  a  little  while, 
to  compare  notes  and  exult.  They  were  satisfied  with 
the  look  of  it.  They  longed  to  put  the  acquired  lan- 
guage to  use  in  their  correspondence ;  and,  after  the 
first  flush  of  excitement  over  their  success,  went  on  to 
translate  the  whole  of  Antony's  composition  into  their 
own  private  language.  The  preliminary  '  Ekati '  they 
changed,  on  Kate's  urgency ;  and  at  last  the  whole  work 
stood  complete  before  their  eyes  in  this  shape :  — 

"  Smis  nryai  tgo  ryou  rlette  dan  swa  yver  dgla  niche 
itgo  ti.  imdgla  ot  rhea  ttha  lal  ear  Iwel.  itwen  gatroppin 
dnai  tcaugh  eon  tniusJcrai.    Iwil  eh  ta  rhowe  sa  lusua. 

B.  Ar 

And  then  one  thing  struck  one  of  the  authors,  —  Kate 
Ryan :  "  Where  a  letter  is  doubled  in  a  word,  like 
two/>'s  in  *  trapping,'  why  can't  we  leave  out  one  ?  and 
so  in  '  letter '  ?  I'm  afraid  somebody  will  guess  '  trap- 
ping '  and  '  letter.' " 

In  the  making  of  so  important  a  thing  as  a  language, 
the  girl  seemed  to  think  the  world  interested,  and 
likely  to  be  curious.  Young  Brade  accepted  at  once 
the  proposition,  and  the  dangerous  '«'  and  'j(?'  were 
taken  out,  leaving  the  words  to  which  they  belonged 
much    less    suspicious-looking    and   much    less   liable 


THE  MAKING   OF  A  LANGUAGE.  147 

to    detection,  now   that   the  letters  had   been  taken 
away. 

"  Now,"  said  Antony,  "  we  must  both  have  copies 
exactly  alike,  so  that  we  can  remember,  and  we  can  put 
a  particular  mark  at  those  two  words,  so  as  to  show 
that  the  letters  were  left  out  on  purpose.  Now  can't 
we  do  any  thing  else  to  it  ?  " 

The  makers  examined  the  effect  of  several  proposed 
imjarovements ;  but,  because  these  did  not  make  either 
The  Language  any  better  or  the  secrecy  any  greater, 
they  were  all  abandoned ;  and  it  was  resolved  that,  for 
the  present,  the  language  should  be  tried  as  it  Avas. 
Brade,  with  many  bows  and  much  cei'emony,  and  with 
some  laughter,  practised  the  "  Smis  Nrya  "  with  which 
the  letter  opened,  at  first  joining  to  these  words  others 
in  the  ordinary  vernacular,  but  at  length  turning  all 
into  the  Secret  Language  which  had  just  come  into 
being,  as  "  Smis  Ni-ya,  who  od  uyo  odf'' 

Now  they  did  not  believe  that  anybody  in  the  whole 
world  could  make  it  out ;  and  Brade  would  not  fear  to 
leave  a  piece  lying  on  the  ground  so  that  anybody  could 
Bee  it. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  good,"  he  asked,  "  if  one  of  those 
great  men  that  read  inscriptions,  or  the  Postmaster- 
General,  should  try  a  piece  of  it  ? " 

These  words  apparently  reminded  Kate  of  her  Avatch- 
fulness,  for  she  hurried  to  the  road,  looking  longer  than 
she  had  yet  looked  toward  the  highway. 

"  There's  something  stopping  away  over  on  the  hill," 
she  said,  hui*rying  back.  "Now  we  must  be  quick. 
Have  you  made  a  new  one?  If  we  could  rub  out  one 
t  and  one  p  from  this,  it  would  do  just  as  well  as  writing 


148  ANTONY  BRADE. 

it  over.      Quick !  quick !  quick !  "  and  she  spread  out 
the  pa^jer. 

With  all  the  hurry,  Antony  took  occasion  to  show  a 
little  learning,  acquired,  as  we  may  suppose,  not  long 
before  in  the  class-room,  and  still  fresh  to  him,  that 
"  the  Ancients  used  to  write  with  one  end  and  rub  out 
with  the  other,  —  vertere  sty  "  — 

Kate  unceremoniously  broke  in,  bursting  into  a  laugh 
(children  in  good  spirits  are  so  ready  to  laugh)  : — 

"  Never  mind  the  Ancients  I  " 

The  Third-Form  boy  took  good-naturedly  this  slight 
upon  his  Latin,  and,  turning  his  pencil,  began  to  rub 
out  the  objectionable  letters  with  its  india-rubber  ;  and, 
while  he  was  busy  with  that  work,  Kate,  finding  the 
freest  and  cleanest  part  of  her  paper,  made  a  copy  for 
Antony,  keeping  for  her  own  the  first. 

Then  going  into  the  road,  and  looking  each  way,  as 
before,  she  called  hastily  to  him :  "  There !  go  you  right 
in  back  there,  into  the  '  cuddle '  "  (this  very  likely  was 
their  private  name  for  some  inner  retreat  or  fastness), 
and  as  she  spoke  she  pushed  him  inwards  from  the 
road.     "Mr.  Parmenter's  coming!" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  hide  !  "  said  the  boy,  positively. 

"  You  must !  "  she  answered,  with  equal  positiveness ; 
—  "  but  I  can't  stay  !  "  —  and  immediately  set  out  in 
the  direction  of  the  main  road,  and  of  what  had  given 
her  the  alarm,  walking  steadily  and  quietly,  without 
once  looking  back  or  turning  her  head. 

She  bowed  quietly  on  meeting  a  vehicle  in  Avhich 
were  Mr.  Parmenter  and  another  person,  to  whom,  as 
they  drove  slowly,  Mr.  Parmenter  was  pointing  out 
with  his  whip,  to  the  prospect  on  the  grounds  at  the 


THE  MAKING   OF  A  LANQUAOB.  149 

side.  It  was  not  likely  that  they  would  observe  the 
young  girl  in  black,  who  brushed  the  moist  bushes  in 
turning  out  for  them.  After  passing  them,  in  like  man- 
ner she  kept  her  way  without  turning,  as  wisely  as  any 
woman  who  wished  not  to  show  curiosity  nor  to  attract 
attention. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MB.  PARMENTER  STUMBLES  UPON  A  SPECIMEN. 

The  carriage  which  Kate  Ryan  had  just  met  went 
on  at  a  walk,  but  was  soon  opposite  the  place  where, 
in  his  nook  of  damp  shelter,  our  young  friend,  the  asso- 
ciate language-maker,  had  been  left. 

Mr.  Parraenter's  eyes,  as  he  drove,  were  still  fixed 
upon  the  fields,  at  the  opposite  side. 

"  We  must  turn  before  long,"  he  said,  "  for  there's  a 
bad  place  in  the  road,  just  beyond  here,  that  our  town- 
authorities  will  have  to  look  to ;  but  I've  shown  you 
the  whole  ground." 

His  companion,  whose  tall  neck  showed  a  Avhite  cra- 
vat, implying  that  he  was  a  clergyman,  was  perhaps  less 
occupied  with  field  and  road  than  he,  and  at  this  mo- 
ment exclaimed,  — 

"  Well !  there's  a  young  chap  has  found  a  snug  place 
for  himself!  "  and  Antony  Brade  appeared,  sitting  on 
his  rock  as  before,  —  though  not  now  with  his  head 
bare,  —  and  beating  the  moist  earth  Avith  his  stick. 

The  boy  looked  a  little  conscious  and  confused,  per- 
haps, but  possibly  not  more  than  any  boy  of  his  age 
might  appear,  when  found  in  a  strange  situation  like 
this  by  two  gentlemen,  and  having  had  their  attention 
directed  to  him. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Brade,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  in  a 


A  SPECIMEN  FOUND.  151 

gracious  tone,  and  lifting  his  hat  from  his  head,  cere- 
moniously, in  return  for  the  salutation  of  the  boy. 
"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you're  such  a  good  scholar,  Brmle. 
Don't  you  feel  afraid  of  taking  cold  in  there  ?  I  should 
think  Mrs.  Wales  might  have  to  prescribe  for  you,  if 
you  sit  in  such  places." 

Then  turning  to  the  clergyman  he  said :  "  Brade  is 
the  first  scholar  in  his  Form,  I  understand,  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt." 

"  So  this  is  Brade,"  said  the  other,  looking  well  at 
him.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  sir,  and  hope  you'll  live  to 
be  the  first  scholar  in  the  School."  To  Mr.  Parmenter, 
he  added,  smiling,  "  Boys  have  boys'  constitutions." 

The  boy,  after  the  way  of  boys,  made  no  answer 
to  the  compliments  and  complimentary  wishes,  but  by 
this  time  had  found  an  answer  to  some  one  of  the  several 
suggestions  about  dampness  and  danger,  and  was 
saying,  "  It's  very  dry  after  we've  sat  here  a  little 
while." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  graciously,  "  this  is  a 
place  of  resort  for  boys,  is  it  ?  Rather  a  dangerous 
practice,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  companion.  "  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  speak  to  Rector  Warren  about  it. 
Well,  Brade,  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  at  my  house. 
Are  you  interested  in  works  of  art  and  taste  ?  You 
know,  Brade,  where  my  house  —  Mr.  Parmenter's 
house  —  is  ?  I  suppose  all  the  boys  of  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew's School  know  my  house  ?  Would  you  like  to 
come?" 

To  this  invitatory  address,  which  was  palpably  at 
the  same  time  dignified  and  elegant  and  hospitable, 
the  boy  answered  veiy  nmch  as  modest  boys  gen- 
erally do. 


152  ANTONY  DRADE. 

"  Then  I  shall  expect  you,  Brade  :  I  shall  request 
Rector  Warren  to  give  you  leave,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
even  more  graciously,  and  saluting  him  punctiliously. 
He  then  backed  his  horse  and  turned  his  buggy,  neatly, 
on  the  narrow  road. 

"  Did  you  observe  any  thing  particular  about  that  boy, 
sir  ?  "  he  asked,  in  his  formal  way,  of  his  companion. 
"  You  know  he's  the  mysterious  boy." 

"Not  very  difierent  from  other  boys  in  the  same 
condition,  I  should  say,"  answered  the  clergyman.  "So 
that's  the  mysterious  Brade?"  and  then  he  added,  with 
a  touch  of  that  humor  which  is  peculiar  to  a  certain 
class  of  minds,  "  '  Braid  broad  braids,  brave  maids.'  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  accepting  the  quotation, 
with  a  courteous  smile,  "  I  suppose  there  may  or  may 
not  be  something  under  it?  It  might  be  quite  an 
important  thing  for  our  School  ?  You  observed  I  men- 
tioned '  works  of  art.'  I  don't  go  so  far  as  some  of  our 
neighbors,  in  concluding  right  off  that  he  used  to  live 
in  a  palace ;  but  it  might  remind  him  of  former  asso- 
ciations and  surroundings  "  (^Ir.  Parmenter  showed  a 
good  clioice  of  words).  "  I  don't  know  whether  you 
observed  any  effect  ?  Plow  do  his  manners  strike  you, 
sir  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  a  nohleman  ought  to  look  "  ("  I 
don't,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  witliout  interrupting). 
"Doesn't  somebody  say  he's  a  nobleman?"  continued 
Mr.  Merritt.    "  I  should  easily  say  he  miglit  be  foreign." 

"  There's  a  strong  feeling  in  Eastham,  you  know ;  and 
Mrs.  Wadham  and  Mr.  Don  have  got  a  theory,  I  be- 
lieve," said  Mr.  Parmenter  Avith  an  impartial  dignity, 
like  one  who  was  ready  to  accept  either  side,  according 
to  the  weight  of  evidence.     "  They  think  he's  a  Russian, 


A  SPECIMEN  FOUND.  153 

and  Brade  stands  for  Bradinski  or  BradisloiF  (I  don't 
know  Russian  "  — ).  ("  Who  does  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Merritt.) 
Mr.  Parnienter  smiled  and  went  on :  "  or  some  other 
he  mentioned,  —  a  very  distinguished  family.  Dr. 
Farwell's  got  a  Scotch  theory  "  ("  I  know  lie  has,"  said 
Mr.  Merritt),  "  a  great  family  of  Breadalbanes,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Parmenter,  dividing  the  stress  of  voice 
between  the  first  and  last  syllables. 

"  Breadal'bane,"  said  Mr.  Merritt,  showing  superior 
knowledge  by  accenting  the  second  syllable. 

"  If  he  should  be  a  Russian,"  continued  Mr.  Parmen- 
ter, going  on  to  weigh  that  side,  "  it  might  be  an  im- 
portant thing  for  St.  Bartholomew's  School  to  be  a 
connecting  link  between  our  Christian  education  and 
the  highest  classes  in  that  country  (they  all  belong,  I 
think,  to  '  the  Greek  Church,'  or  to  '  the  Holy  Eastern 
Catholic  Church,'  —  you  know  about  those  things  better 
than  I  do),  and  it  might  be  a  step  toward  intercom- 
munion." 

"  Rather  a  short  one,  I  fear,"  said  the  clergyman, 
again  opening  his  vein  of  humor. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  smiling  as 
before,  impartially,  as  if  this  were  just  as  much  his 
opinion  as  the  other. 

"Don't  you  think  it  might  be  worth  while  to  follow 
it  up  a  little,  in  a  quiet  way?  Haven't  we  a  right,  in 
justice  to  a  pupil  under  our  charge,  and  in  justice 
to  ourselves,  to  ascertain  the  facts  about  a  boy  that 
we're  educating,  if  we  can  do  it  without  exciting  sus- 
picion ?  " 

Mr.  Merritt  smiled,  as  if  catching  his  friend's 
thought. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  we  may  gratify  our  curiosity, 
7* 


154  ANTONY  BRADE. 


if  we  can  do  it  without  exposing  ourselves:  is  that 
it?" 

"  Mrs.  Wadham  puts  it  '  on  strong  moral  grounds,'  " 
said  Mr  Parmenter,  by  way  of  answer.  He  smiled  as 
he  spoke,  but  added  :  — 

"  I  confess  it  admits  of  a  question.  j?sn't  it  a  moral 
duty  to  know  all  we  can  about  one  of  our  pupils  ?  in 
case  of  wrong,  for  example,  or  danger.  There  may  be 
something  kept  from  him.  Can't  we,  if  we  choose,  put 
it  upon  the  ground  of  moral  obligation  ?  —  that  is,  if 
we  think  best.  I  should  say  it  depended  entirely  upon 
that." 

This  last  he  said  as  if  not  committed  to  any 
course,  but  as  being  capable  of  seeing  his  way  pretty 
clearly. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Merritt ;  "  we  might 
kick  up  a  good  deal  of  a  mess.  Somebody  said  (I  be- 
lieve it  was  Dr.  Farwell)  that  Mr.  Bates,  the  agent,  or 
guardian,  or  whatever  you  may  choose  to  call  him,  said 
Mr.  Warren  knew  all  about  the  boy." 

Mr.  Parmenter  was  hardly  prepared  for  that  sup- 
position :  — 

"  I  think  that  can't  be  so,"  he  said,  coloring,  "  I 
presume  that  Mr.  Warren  would  recognize  my  claim  to 
be  informed." 

Here  was  a  slight  pause,  and  then  he  said,  — 

"The  Rector  is  pretty  clear-headed  and  sharp- 
sighted,  I  suppose,  about  learned  questions,  —  the 
question  whether  Hector  (wasn't  it  Hector?)  killed 
Andromache;  —  but  bring  him  down  to  daily  life,  and 
it  doesn't  follow  that  he'd  use  his  eyes  as  well  as  those 
of  us  that  have  to  keep  our  wits  about  us  all  the  time. 
He  doesn't  think  there's  any  thing  foreign  or  remarkable 


A  SPECIMEN  FOUND.  155 

about  Brade  (I  should  judge  from  what  he  told  me). 
What  should  you  say  ?  " 

"I  should  think  there  might  be  something  a  little 
foreign  in  his  accent,  —  possibly  Irish,"  said  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt.  "  But  I  should  be  prepared  to  believe  one  thing 
as  well  as  another." 

"  That's  it,"  Mr.  Parmenter  said.  "  The  ladies  sug- 
gest that  naturally,  under  the  circumstances,  —  being 
incog,  —  he  would  be  left  a  good  deal  to  servants.  I 
believe,  however,  Irish  gentlemen  have  that  —  and 
Scotch,  too  —  as  well  as  the  common  people.  In  this 
country,"  he  continued,  drawing  an  appropriate  reflec- 
tion from  his  fact,  "  we  should  think  it  strange  if  any 
educated  man  Avas  to  have  a  peculiar  accent.  I  believe 
I'm  light,  ain't  I  ?  " 

Mr.  Merritt  assented,  and  then,  sticking  like  a  parson, 
as  he  was,  to  his  text,  said,  — 

"I  think  you  told  me  once  that  you  had  never 
known  of  any  foreign  communication  with  him  ?  " 

"  No :  I  ascertained  that  without  raising  any  sus- 
picion or  any  curiosity.  I  got  our  post-master,  old 
Mr.  Bancroft,  to  keep  account  of  all  the  foreign  letters 
that  went  through  our  office,  so  as  to  show  the  impor- 
tance of  the  Eastham  post-office.  That  took  the  old 
gentleman,  and  he  kept  account  for  two  months.  You 
see  I  looked  out  for  that." 

"  What  visitors  has  he  had  ?  "  Mr.  Merritt  asked,  at 
the  end  of  the  sentence. 

"  He  hasn't  had  any,  till  the  other  day.  I  never  told 
you  about  the  stranger  ?  " 

Taking  his  answer  from  liis  friend's  face,  Mr.  Par- 
menter went  on  :  "  Quite  a  distinguished-looking  man. 
I  tried  to  got  him  to  ride  up  with  me  from  the  cars; 


156  ANTONY  BRADE. 

but  he  preferred  walking.  I  went  up  afterwards  to 
the  School,  and  Mr.  Don  told  me  he  had  singled  out 
Brade  from  quite  a  number  of  boys,  and  talked  with 
him  ;  asked  what  his  name  Avas,  and  when  he  said 
'Brade,'  he  laughed,  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  who  his 
father  was  ;  and  then  '  if  he  knew  any  thing.'  Brade 
said,  'Not  much,'  and  then  the  man  said,  'Good,'  and 
'  he  was  just  the  boy  he  wanted  to  talk  to.'  I  found, 
from  the  little  conversation  I  had  with  him,  that  he 
was  a  foreigner ;  but  I  could  not  hear  any  thing  about 
him,  afterwards.  Nobody,  except  just  at  the  school, 
had  seen  him,  or  heard  of  him." 

"That  ought  to  be  one  of  Robert  Dale  Owen's  sto- 
ries," said  Mr.  Merritt.  "  I  don't  see  but  what  we're 
coming  on  in  the  world,  at  St.  Bart's." 

Mr.  Parraenter  had  still  his  comments  to  make,  and 
he  made  them,  as  follows  :  — 

"  What  he  said  to  Brade  might  mean  a  great  deal,  or 
nothing,  just  as  you  choose  to  take  it.  'Does  Brade 
know  Avho  his  father  is  ? '  '  Does  he  loiow  any  thing 
about  the  mystery  ? '  '  It's  good  he  doesn't  know  much.' 
'  He's  just  the  boy  that  Avas  Avauted.'" 

"  Well,  but  you  don't  suppose  so  much  of  a  plot  as 
all  that  ?  "  said  the  other. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Parmentcr,  confidently  and 
sagaciously,  smiling,  "  that  a  plot's  a  plot,  ain't  it  ?  a 
spade's  a  spade.  If  there's  a  plot  at  all,  Avhy  not  a 
Avhole  plot  ?     It's  just  as  cheap,  Avhile  you're  about  it." 

The  sky  had  not  ceased  to  threaten,  and  noAV  looked 
more  threatening  than  CA'cr;  and  the  clergyman,  like 
a  sensible  man,  held  out  his  hand  to  the  Aveather, 

"Hei-e  it  comes!"  said  Mr.  Merritt;  and,  Avhilc  he 
ppoke,  the  two  drcAA'  OA'er  and  flistened  the  leathern  top, 


A  SPECIMEN  FOUND.  157 

and  sheltered  themselves,  besides,  with  the  boot.  The 
rain  came  quietly  and  steadily  down,  in  the  surest  way 
to  soak  the  earth  and  all  things  on  it.  At  the  same 
time  the  horse  took  the  road  handsomely,  laying  him- 
self down  to  his  work,  and  the  lumps  of  wet  sand  and 
gravel  began  to  fly  from  his  hoofs  and  from  the  wheels. 

Mr.  Parmenter  had  pretty  well  explained  Mr.  Don's 
views  and  his  own  upon  the  subject,  when  Mr.  Merritt 
gave  another  turn  to  his  thoughts. 

"  Our  young  friend  '11  stand  a  pretty  good  chance  of 
getting  soaked,  if  he  camps  out  there  much  longer. 
His  high  family  won't  keep  the  rain  out.  All  the 
Braids-Mi-skies  and  oz^^-oZ-skies  won't  help  him." 

"  Suppose  we  turn  back  and  take  hiin  in  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Parmenter,  reining  up  ;  and,  Mr,  Merritt  assenting,  he 
turned  with  some  little  manoeuvring  in  the  narrow 
roadway,  and  went  back  as  fist  as  they  had  been 
coming. 

"  This  was  the  place,  surely,"  he  said,  stopping  his 
horse  at  a  particular  spot,  and  looking  out.  "  There's 
where  we  turned  round  before.  Surely,  that's  where 
the  boy  was." 

He  drove  on  slowly,  turned  round  in  the  former 
tracks,  and  came  slowly  back  to  the  same  spot. 

This  time,  however,  no  opening  in  the  shrubbery  by 
the  roadside  apjieared.     They  laughed. 

"This  is  one  of  the  old  stories  of  enchantment  that 
we  used  to  read,  — invisible  gates  and  so  on.  You  see 
what  he's  done,  don't  you  ?  fastened  those  two  bouglis 
together,"  said  Mr.  Merritt. 

"  That's  very  well  done,  Brade,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
in  a  very  considerate  tone  ;  "  but  I  wouldn't  stay  out 
here  any  longer,  now  it's  raining.  We've  come  to  offer 
you  a  ride." 


168  ANTONY  BRADE. 

There  was  no  stir  or  sign  of  animation  behind  the 
green  door ;  nor  to  their  repeated  calling  was  there  any 
answer,  any  more  than  if  the  boy  had  not  understood 
English. 

One  part  of  the  gentlemen's  performance  consisted 
of  a  repeated  blowing  by  Mr.  Merritt  through  his  thumbs 
into  his  hands,  so  as  to  make  a  loud  whistle.  This  he 
repeated  many  times,  because,  as  he  said,  "  he  knew  from 
his  own  experience  that  every  boy  understood  that." 

Mr.  Parmenter  was,  it  would  seem,  a  man  of  resolu- 
tion. "  I  should  like  to  see,"  he  said,  aside,  "  what  has 
become  of  him ; "  and,  giving  the  reins  ceremoniously 
to  his  companion,  he  jumped  out  and  set  himself  to 
opening  the  way  into  the  hiding-place.  At  the  expense 
of  a  pretty  thorough  wetting  from  the  drops  shaken 
down  and  brushed  through,  he  made  an  entrance,  only 
to  find  the  bare  rock,  and  the  place  empty. 

"  That's  the  Russian  way,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt, "  though  I  should  have  called  it  rather  '  French 
leave.'  But  you're  dripping,  my  dear  sir,"  as  from 
his  secure  retreat  he  saw  his  friend  come  back. 
"  Where's  he  gone,  do  you  suppose  ? "  he  asked,  his 
curiosity  again  overcoming,  for  the  moment,  his  sym- 
pathy and  good  manners. 

"  That  I  can't  tell  you,  sir,-"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  with 
several  slight  coughs. 

"What's  that  paper?"  Mr.  Merritt  asked.  "Per- 
haps that's  his  father's  patent  of  nobility." 

Mr.  Parmenter  picked  up  the  paper,  —  a  damp  and 
not  over-clean  bit,  —  and,  glancing  at  it,  said:  "It's 
something  I  can't  make  out,  —  a  st«*ange  language." 

"  A  find !  Suppose  you  bring  it  home,"  said  his 
friend  ;  "  perhaps  we  can  make  some  hand  at  it."     And 


A  SPECIMEN  FOUND.  159 

Mr.  Farmenter,  having  folded  and  put  it  into  his  pocket, 
took  his  place,  wet  and  chilling ;  drew  up  the  boot,  and 
eoon  had  his  liorse  going  foster  than  before. 

Through  that  side-road,  so  pretty  in  bright  weather, 
they  splashed,  and  into  the  main  road.  Here  was 
Bome  moving  life. 

"  That's  a  remarkably  nice-looking  girl  ahead  there," 
said  Mr.  Merritt :  "  we  met  her  before.  What  new 
family  have  you  got  here  ?  She'll  get  a  precious  soak- 
ing, though,  won't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  there's  Mr.  Manson  offering  to  hold  his 
umbrella  over  her !  "  said  Mr.  Parmenter.  "  He  doesn't 
care  for  weather  either." 

"  But  what's  he  got  in  his  arms  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt, —  "  a  sheep  ?  " 

Mr.  Manson  (whom  our  readers  may  remember,  the 
Rector  and  editor)  had  certainly  something  large  on  his 
arm,  under  his  cloak. 

"  I  see  his  feet  hanging  down,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter : 
"  it's  little  Billy  Carnes,  the  cripple.  I  saw  him  in  Mrs. 
Rainor's  window,  as  we  came  by." 

"  We'll  say  it's  a  lamb,  then.  If  it  wasn't  so  rainy,  I 
should  like  to  try  Manson  with  your  '  strange  language,' " 
said  Mr.  Merritt. 

"  Yes ! "  Mr.  Parmenter  answered,  keeping  up  his 
horse's  pace.  "  That  girl  belongs  to  a  very  respectable 
family,  lately  moved  in.  Some  j^eople  say  the  mother 
is  most  likely  the  person  that  had  the  charge  of  Brade, 
or  else  is  appointed  to  look  after  him.  I  haven't  made 
out  yet,  to  my  own  satisfaction,  whether  there's  any 
thing  in  it.  There's  no  intercourse  between  Brade  and 
them,  that  anybody  knows  of;  but  they're  very  well 
off." 


160  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  In  a  country  place,"  said  Mr.  Merritt,  "  the  neigh- 
bors would  soon  know  it,  if  there  was  any  intercourse, 
—  to  say  nothing  of  scores  of  boys  with  two  eyes  and 
ears  apiece." 

"  I  should  know  it  as  soon  as  any  one,"  said  Mr.  Par- 
menter,  in  a  tone  that  implied  a  large  reserve  of  power 
and  means  within  him:  "my  position  is  such,  you 
know,  that  not  much  is  said  or  done  that  doesn't  find 
its  way  to  me.     It's  important  that  it  should  be  so." 

The  rain  came  steadily  down,  in  a  way  to  check  con- 
versation ;  and  the  rate  at  which  they  were  driving 
brought  their  faces  and  hats  and  clothes  against  it,  and 
made  it  necessary  to  meet  it  manfully,  or  shelter  them- 
selves from  it,  as  best  they  might.  So,  splashing 
through  shallow  puddles,  and  flinging  the  mud  from 
wheels  and  hoofs,  with  now  and  then  a  snort  from  the 
horse  and  a  cough  from  his  driver,  they  made  their 
way  home. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

MR.   DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES, 

The  reader  will  not  expect  that  Mr.  Don,  who  does 
not  live  in  Eastham,  should  give  up  all  his  time  to  St. 
Bart's,  or  to  his  friends  in  our  town.  He  is  a  snug 
man  of  business  at  home,  and  quietly  thriving  in  the 
world ;  and  this  he  would  not  be,  if  he  did  not  look 
after  his  own  business,  which  is  that  of  calico-printing, 
on  a  good  scale.  It  is  because  his  business  is  in  a  safe 
way,  and  that  he  conscientiously  follows  up  his  duties 
in  all  other  directions,  that  we  find  him  so  often  tread- 
ing the  soil  of  Eastham,  and  making  himself  seen  and 
felt  at  the  School. 

More  than  one  thing  here  now  took  up  his  time. 

We  have  seen  that  Miss  Minette  Wadham  was  not 
disinclined  to  let  her  mother  go  forward  and  work  out 
her  plan,  if  only  she  could  be  kept  within  certain 
bounds  of  propriety.  We  have  seen  the  plan  formed 
in  their  house  to  give  harmless  pleasure  and  to  develop 
a  most  interesting  and  attractive  mystery.  It  is  while 
things  are  just  in  this  state  that  our  small  but  intelli- 
gent and  courteous  friend  made  his  way  in ;  and,  in 
answer  to  the  salutations  of  the  ladies,  said  that  "  his 
wife  assured  him  that  he  was  looking  very  well ;  that 
he  was  not  quite  clear  that  she  was  right ;  but  sui>- 
posed  that  it  was  a  proper  compliment  to  her  to  think 

BO." 


102  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Having  thus  smilingly  introduced  himself  as  put 
forward  and  sustained  by  his  wife,  and  having  next 
complimented  the  ladies  on  looking  well,  and  remarked 
the  beauty  of  their  flowers,  and  the  comfort  of  a  wood- 
fire,  he  diverged  a  little.  "  You  find  your  residence  in 
Eastham  still  agreeable,  I  suppose,  Mrs.  Wadham  ? " 
he  asked.  "Our  boys  —  the  boys  of  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew's School  —  don't  disturb  you  ?  " 

This  he  said  like  one  who,  though  he  felt  responsible 
for  the  conduct  of  the  boys,  yet  was  pretty  well  assured 
that  there  was  little  misconduct  to  account  for.  The 
lady  answered :  — 

"  I've  got  two  boys  there  myself,  you  know,  Mr. 
Don  ;  and  my  boys  were  always  brought  up  to  respect 
their  mother,  —  to  ^respect  their  father  and  their 
mother  my  boys  were  brought  up ;  and,  if  boys 
respect  their  mothers,  they  can't  be  very  bad." 

This  little  sentence  was  uttered  with  so  much  de- 
cision as  to  make  it  clear  that  she  considered  Mr.  Don's 
question  met  and  answered.  Mr.  Don  accepted  it, 
apparently,  in  that  understanding. 

"True,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "the  parental  principle  — 
the  principle  of  parental  respect  —  in  my  opinion 
underlies  (I  think  that's  the  phrase  now),  it's  at  the 
root  of  every  thing.     You  commonly  observe  "  — 

Mrs.  Wadham  plunged  into  speech  :  — 

"  As  for  the  parental  principle,  I  say,  teach  'em  to 
know  their  mothers.  I  know  it's  said,  '  it's  a  wise  chllci 
that  knows  his  father ; '  but  I  say  let  'em  know  their 
mothers,  and  then  you  keep  'em  in  connection  with  all 
that's  pure  and  holy." 

"It  may  be  as  you  say,  ma'am,"  answered  Mr. 
Don.      Then   gathering   ujd  again  the  thread  of  dis- 


MB.  DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.      163 

course,  which  had  been  brushed  out  of  his  hand,  he 
folloAved  it :  — 

"  I've  seen  young  men  left  orphans  who  have  been 
brought  up  without  that  restraining  influence.  I  have 
one  in  particular  in  my  mind  now  "  — 

"  Yes :  speaking  of  that,  what  do  you  think  of  the 
mystery  of  St.  Bartholomew's  —  I  call  it ;  there  was  a 
'  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's '  once,  you  know." 

Mr.  Don  moved  in  his  seat,  and  looked  intelligently 
at  her ;  for,  as  our  readers  will  believe,  here  was  a 
subject  that  he  was  ready  for.  He  answered  cor- 
dially :  — 

"  I  think  we're  in  a  way  to  get  nearer  to  it." 

The  answer  was  so  ready  that  Mrs.  Wadham  seemed 
to  doubt  whether  he  could  have  understood  her. 

"About  this  young  chap  at  the  School,  I  mean, — 
nobleman's  son,  or  whatever  he  is." 

"  That's  the  subject  I  had  in  my  mind,  ma'am,"  said 
Mr.  Don. 

"  It's  the  subject  a  good  many  people  have  got  in 
their  minds,  I  guess,"  said  the  lady, 

"  But,  excuse  me,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Don.  "  You 
spoke  of  a  '  Massacre.'  Am  I  to  understand  that  you 
connect  something  of  that  sort  with  the  history  of  the 
young  person  we  referred  to  ?  " 

"  That  I  can't  say,"  answered  Mrs.  Wadham,  with 
much  meaning  and  authority  in  her  look  and  voice. 
"  Jiysfcry  is  what  it  is,  now.  I  ask"  (with  a  sort  of 
official  tone)  "  what  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Oh !"  said  Mr.  Don,  seriously, "  I'm  convinced  there's 
something  in  it,  ma'am.  I  think  it  altogether  likely 
he's  a  nobleman's  son,  —  my  own  opinion  is,  a  Russian 
nobleman." 


164  ANTONY  BRADE. 


Mrs.  Wadham  looked  as  if  she  carried  in  her  pocket 
a  pass-key  to  the  House  of  Things  Unrevealed.  "  I 
suppose  it  can  be  known,"  she  said,  and  sealed  the  sen- 
tence with  a  single  nod,  as  significant,  if  not  as  conclu- 
sive, as  that  of  Jove. 

Mr.  Don  was  not  the  man  to  shut  the  mouth  of  an 
oracular  cave,  or  to  put  brakes  upon  the  wheels  of  ad- 
vancing discovery,  nor  was  he  the  man  to  precipitate 
things.  "You  think  it  could  be  discovered,  ma'am, 
do  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  remember  a  remark  our  Rec- 
tor, Dr.  Nattom,  once  made,  that '  if  we  could  encourage 
the  hidden  thing  to  come  out  of  its  shell,  without 
rudely  breaking  it  ourselves,  we  were  following  the 
order  of  nature.' " 

"The  'order  of  nature'  is  all  good,"  she  answered; 
"  but  I  take  it  we're  meant  to  be  lords  of  nature.  I 
should  say  this  secret  will  be  discovered !  "  and,  having 
nodded  decisively,  she  looked  steadily  in  his  face. 
"  There's  Eldridge  ! "  she  said,  suddenly,  showing  that 
she  could  attend  to  two  men  at  once.  Then,  throwing 
up  the  window,  she  called  out,  "  Eldridge  !  I  want  you 
to  put  Tommy  directly  into  the  light  carriage,  to  drive 
me." 

It  is  to  be  supposed  that  if  Eldridge  had  received  his 
proportion  of  that  domestic  wisdom  which,  as  we  have 
heard,  had  been  applied  to  the  sons  of  Wadliam,  he 
woiild  go  straight  to  the  execution  of  an  order,  or  a 
suggestion  of  Mrs.  Wadham,  with  a  readiness  beyond 
tliat  of  submission  to  authority,  Avith  a  feeling  as  if  he 
were  farthering  the  operation  of  one  of  the  Elements 
of  Nature.  This  time  lie  answered,  not  strongly,  "  I 
haven't  been  to  dinner  yet,  Miss  Wadham." 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  she  said ;  "  but  I  want  the  horse  and 


MR.  DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.      165 

light  carriage,  right  away.  —  I  sha'n't  be  gone  long," 
she  added,  considerately,  for  his  comfort. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "  I'm  goin'  to  St.  Bartholomew's 
School :  I've  got  an  end  in  view,  —  I've  got  a  pur- 
pose,—  and  a  motive." 

Mrs.  Wadham's  way  of  speaking  a  sentence  like  this 
was  sententious  :  whether  to  choose  the  right  words,  or 
to  give  them  a  chance  to  take  their  full  effect  upon  her 
hearers. 

Mr.  Don  was  a  very  good  listener,  —  courteous  and 
grave,  but  not  demonstrative.  To  what  had  just  been 
said,  he  answered,  "  Oli,  yes,  ma'am  ! " 

Mrs.  Wadham  looked  at  him  as  if  she  were  not  sure 
whether  he  had  altogether  understood  her. 

"  I  say,"  said  she,  emphatically,  "  I've  got  a  j^urpose 
and  a  motive  !  " 

This  phrase  had  evidently  been  chosen  with  deliber- 
ation. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  with  me  ? "  she  asked, 
and  was  assured  that  "he  would  certainly  go,  with 
pleasure,  if  it  wouldn't  put  her  to  any  inconvenience." 

"  No  inconvenience  about  it ! "  she  answered.  "  I 
ain't  a  living  skeleton,  and  I  always  have  plenty  of  room 
in  my  carriages.  Now,  Netta,  you  might  go  and  set 
and  talk  with  Mrs.  Warren,  while  I'm  about  business. 
That'll  be  treating  her  with  proper  respect.  —  Yes." 

To  many  persons,  if  they  had  heard  the  whole  of 
Mrs.  Wadham's  plans,  this  proposition  would  seem  like 
that  among  thieves,  by  which  the  one  is  to  draw  off  a 
partner  or  a  clerk,  while  the  other  robs  the  till.  To 
people  like  the  author  of  it,  it  seems  to  provide  for  all 
the  demands  of  propriety  and  kindness,  Avhile  it  answers 
the  first  object,  which  is  to  enable  the  contriver  of  it  to 
accomplish  his  own  purpose. 


166  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  So  we'll  put  on  our  things  and  get  ready,  if  you'll 

go." 

The  daughter  had  more  delicacy  of  perception,  if 
not  more  kindliness  of  feeling  than  the  mother,  and 
she  objected,  while  she  nipped  dead  leaves  from  the 
plants : — 

"  But,  mother,  I  don't  see  why  you  can't  see  Mrs. 
Warren  and  ask  leave  to  visit  the  dormitory.  I  don't 
think  there  would  be  any  difficulty  "  — 

"  That  would  just  spoil  my  plan  :  I  can  do  that  after- 
wards," said  the  mother.  "  That  is  all  very  proper,  no 
doubt,  in  general :  I  make  no  objection  ;  but  there  are 
other  considerations  that  outweigh  propriety,  this  time. 
Well,  Mr.  Don,  I'll  go  and  get  ready." 

"  And  I'll  beg  off  from  going,"  said  Miss  Minette. 
"You'll  have  Mr.  Don." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  take  your  daughter's  place  with  Mrs. 
Warren,"  said  that  mild  gentleman.  "  I  can't  fill  it,  of 
coui-se,  —  I  wouldn't  undertake  to  fill  it ;  but  just  to 
make  a  call  upon  Mrs.  Warren,  and  I  could  join  you 
immediately,  in  the  alcoves." 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  going,  large  and  heavy,  to  make 
herself  ready,  and  answered,  turning  to  Mr.  Don,  as 
she  went,  "  Yes." 

"  I  can  understand  your  feeling,  —  if  you'll  allow  me 
to  say  so,"  said  the  gentleman  to  Miss  Minette,  who 
was  still  engaged  in  trimming  her  plants.  "  I  should 
have  some  scruple  myself,  if  I  thought  that  any  liberty 
was  going  to  be  taken ;  but,  of  course,  that  isn't  the 
intention." 

"  Mrs.  Warren  may  make  no  objection,  and  may  not 
feel  hurt,"  said  Miss  Minette  ("  No ! "  interposed  Mr. 
Don) ;  "  but  I  don't  like  to  ransack  her  house,  without 
leave  "  — 


MR.  DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.      167 

"  The  house  is,  in  one  sense,  Mrs.  Warren's,"  be  said  ; 
"  but  a  school  isn't  altogether  like  a  private  house.  It 
must  be  open  to  inspection  to  a  certain  extent,  at  any 
time.  I  can  easily  conceive  that  a  lady  at  the  head 
of  it  might  prefer  that  some  examinations  should  take 
place,  informally,  as  it  were." 

Mr.  Don  spoke  philosophically,  and  as  one  of  the 
Trustees  of  a  school ;  perhaps,  too,  as  a  man  whose 
curiosity  saw  a  prospect  of  gratification,  if  Mrs.  Wad- 
hara  could  only  have  plenty  of  room  and  time.  Miss 
Minette  had  more  delicacy :  — 

"  If  mother  was  going  on  an  official  visit,  —  if  she 
was  a  visitor,  or  on  a  committee,  —  why,  even  then  "  — 
but  as  the  sentence  would  have  had  little  effect,  prob- 
ably, if  it  had  been  finished,  so  it  never  reached  any 
end,  for  it  was  cut  across  by  Mrs.  Wadham's  entrance, 
and  she  filled  a  good  deal  of  space,  wherever  she  was. 

"  Couldn't  you  send  a  bouquet  to  Mrs.  Warren  ?  " 
she  asked,  as  she  came  in.  "  You'll  have  enough  to 
make  a  show,  after  you've  cut  off  a  good  many." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  daughter,  "  we've  got  plenty  of 
flowers ;  but  I  should  prefer  sending  them  another 
time,  or  taking  them  in  my  hand." 

"  Here !  Here ! "  said  the  mother,  "  let  me  take  'era." 
And  with  very  summary  fingers  she  snipped  and  clipped, 
and  crowded  the  flowers  into  one  of  her  hands  without 
any  care  for  arrangement,  and  then  putting  the  bunch 
into  Mr.  Don's  charge,  and  receiving  his  very  courteous 
acknowledgment,  she  said,  — 

"  There  I  those  shall  be  your  share  to  take  care  of: 
I  like  always  to  have  my  hands  free  to  take  the  reins, 
if  any  thing  should  happen." 

During  this  time  Eldridge  had  brought  the  carriage 


168  ANTONY  BUADE. 


to  the  side  of  the  house,  where,  from  the  top  of  a  nat- 
ural rock  which  was  as  level  and  smooth  as  if  made  for 
the  purpose,  Mrs.  Wadham  and  her  guest  stepped 
down  through  the  doorway  of  the  vehicle,  and  after 
she  had  given  her  daughter  a  parting  direction  to 
"keep  Mr.  Greenwood,  if  he  should  come,  for  she  might 
have  some  use  for  him,  —  and  tell  him, '  Not  a  word  ! ' " 
they  were  driven  off.  "  Mr.  Greenwood's  been  away," 
she  explained,  "  and  I  want  to  have  my  party." 

No  prettier  road  has  its  flowei's  gathered  in  summer 
by  children's  fingers,  and  its  stones  piled  by  them  into 
walls  and  causeways,  and  bridges  and  houses,  and  few 
smoother  country  roads  have  their  dust  raised  by  flash- 
ing wheels,  than  that  over  which  they  went.  In  the  first 
place,  there  was  a  hill,  and  there  were  windings ;  and 
then  the  varied  grouping  and  size  and  shape  of  trees 
gave  change  and  beauty,  e^-en  now,  when  their  chief 
grace  and  glory  was  no  longer  hanging  upon  them,  and 
made  a  shelter  from  the  chilly  winds ;  while,  through  the 
openings,  the  lake  was  seen,  and  the  town,  afar. 

At  St.  Bart's,  the  cunningly  devised  programme  was 
carried  out,  with  one  chief  exception.  Before  leaving 
the  carriage,  Mr.  Don  had  mildly  expressed  his  purpose 
of  going  with  Mrs.  Wadham  first,  and  reserving  his 
visit  to  the  Rector's  family  until  afterwards.  The 
flowers  were  left  lying  on  the  seat. 

"  Just  as  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham,  who  would 
gain  by  the  change  a  witness  to  her  own  cleverness,  and 
an  adviser,  —  and,  moreover,  a  sharer  in  the  question- 
able proceeding  in  which  she  was  engaged.  "  Now  I 
lead,  and  you  follow.  Eldridge,  you'll  walk  the  horse 
along  the  road,  up  there,  and  mind  and  be  liere  in 
twenty  minutes,  —  from  fifteen  to  twenty  minutes." 


MR.   DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.     169 

So  saying,  she  led  the  way  rapidly,  and  with  her  fiicc 
set  gravely  and  resolutely  forward,  not  to  the  front 
door,  but  round  to  that  storm-house  with  which  the 
reader  is  sufficiently  acquainted.  Mr.  Don  followed, 
without  trying  exactly  to  overtake  her.  As  she  got 
her  hand  upon  the  latch  of  the  door,  it  was  suddenly 
pushed  open  with  a  force  that,  coming  unexpectedly, 
and  striking  her  not  well  planted  on  the  ground,  nearly 
threw  her  over  backwards.  Mr.  Don  sup])orted  her  by 
one  arm,  and  she  successfully  withstood  the  shock. 

"A  mite  more,"  she  said,  gasping,  "and  my  boya 
would  have  been  motlierless,  and  I  shouldn't  have  been 
here  to  tell  the  tale !  "  She  made  the  tragic  character 
of  the  unhappened  incident  complete,  by  adding:  "And 
it  would  have  been  their  own  school-house  door  that 
did  it!" 

The  three  boys  who  had  made  the  unintentional 
assault  stopped  very  jjolitely  to  apologize,  and  Mrs. 
Wadham  received  the  atonement  graciously  :  — 

"  Only,"  she  said,  "  I  wouldn't  come  out  of  a  door  as 
if  I  was  fired  out,  for  you  may  hit  somebody." 

Mr.  Don,  for  his  part,  addressed  two  of  tlie  boys  as  ac- 
quaintances, "Brade"  and  "Rerasen;"  and  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham  promptly  turned  to  one  of  them,  whom  the  reader 
knows  as  Nicholas  Remsen,  and  expressed  great  inter- 
est in  him,  as  being  in  her  son  Edmund's  Form.  "  Oh, 
yes !  I  know  it's  Albert  is  in  your  Form,"  she  said,  cor- 
recting herself,  as  the  boy  corrected  herj^  and  then, 
with  great  dignity,  took  leave  of  him,  and  said, — 

"  Now,  Mr.  Don  !  "  and  —  the  door  having  been 
opened  more  deliberately  than  the  last  time  —  passed 
through,  into  the  house. 

"  You  know  Remsen,  then  ?  "  Mr.  Don  asked. 


170  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"Remsen?  No!  I  knowBrade,  —  I  spoke  to  him 
just  now.  I've  looked  at  him,  many's  the  time,  in 
church.  Now,  this  is  our  way ! "  and  she  went  straight 
on  upstairs,  remarking,  as  she  mounted  stair  after  stair, 
that  "  if  people  could  go  up  a  slope,  as  they  used  to  have 
it,  up  to  the  cupalo,  in  the  State  House  "  (Mrs.  Wad- 
ham  very  seldom  miscalls  a  word,  but  that  crowning 
glory  of  the  capitol  is  one  that  she  names  like  most 
people),  "  it  would  be  ever  so  much  more  comfortable." 

"How  d'y'do,  Therese?"  she  said  affably  to  a  nice 
person,  with  a  bunch  of  keys  at  her  girdle  and  a  pile 
of  white  clothing  on  her  arm.  "  I'm  come  to  look  at 
your  rooms,  you  see,  to  see  if  you've  got  'em  all  right. 
—  Mr.  Don,  you  know,"  she  added,  partly  withdrawing, 
so  as  to  let  a  portion  of  the  Trustee  be  seen.  "  I  sha'n't 
need  any  help,  Therese.  I  know  my  way.  Who's 
next  to  my  Edmund,  now  ?     Remsen  ?  or  Brade  ?  " 

Being  informed  that  Thompson  Walters  was  on  one 
Bide,  and  Blake  on  the  other,  sbe  said  adroitly,  — 

"  Brade's  the  one  they  call '  my  lord.'  I  suppose  his 
room  is  very  splendid.  This  is  it,  I  believe  ?  "  and  she 
drew  aside  a  curtain. 

This  time  she  had  hit  rightly,  as  "Therese,"  who 
kept  close  at  hand,  assured  her,  and  disclosed  a  pretty 
little  place,  —  not,  at  the  moment,  absolutely  neat,  for 
some  shavings,  with  a  piece  or  two  of  paper,  lay  upon 
the  floor,  and  a  roughish  bit  of  wood,  with  a  knife 
sticking  in  it,  lay  on  the  little  table. 

A  good  engraving,  from  one  of  Rajjliael's  well-known 
paintings  of  the  Mother  and  the  Child,  hung  over  the 
bed,  and  there  were  several  pretty  photographs  upon 
the  walls. 

Mrs.  Wadham  seemed  to  see  every  thing  at  a  glance, 
and  she  dropj^ed  the  curtain. 


MR.    DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.    Ill 

"  Very  pooty !  "  she  said,  —  "  plain,  but  very  pooty. 
Nothing  very  foreign-looking  but  the  watch.  Oh!  per- 
haps you  didn't  see  that  watch?"  and  she  drew  the 
curtain  again. 

Mr.  Don  had  entered  into  more  general  subjects  of 
conversation  with  "  Therese,"  whom  he  called  "  Mrs. 
Latham."  He  had  started  that  of  heating,  and  was  on 
his  way,  doubtless,  to  that  of  ventilation  and  the  rest, 
when  this  appeal  was  made  to  him.  We  may  suppose 
that,  whatever  he  was  talking  about,  his  eyes  and  ears 
were  ready  for  discovery.  The  watch  he  set  out  for  with 
all  the  alacrity  that  was  in  him. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,"  he  said,  as  he  surveyed  it  with  his 
glasses,  "  it's  a  very  curious  specimen  !  "  for  under  their 
eyes  lay  a  large  —  as  compared  with  watches  of  our 
day,  we  might  say  a  huge  —  machine  of  silver,  with  a 
high  and  broadly-overarching  dome  of  crystal ;  and 
from  this  body  came  a  great  stalwart  ticking,  as  unlike 
the  sound  of  modern  time-pieces  as  was  the  accent  of 
our  fathers  of  two  or  three  centuries  ago  unlike  our  own. 

"Two  angels,"  said  Mr.  Don.  "Foreign!"  Then, 
looking  closely,  he  read :  "  Diependorper,  Haarlaem." 

"  That  ain't  Russian,  though !  "  said  Mrs.  Wadham, 
thoughtfully.  Soon  she  added,  in  a  cheery  tone  :  "  But 
we\e  got  English  watches  and  Swiss  watches.  —  How 
do  you  suppose  they  ever  carried  such  a  thing  as 
that?"  asked  the  lady,  having  relieved  her  own 
anxiety.  "  Had  a  servant,  I  suppose,  to  lug  it  in  his 
pocket,  and  take  it  out  when  his  master  wanted  to 
know  what  the  time  was.  Silver,  you  see :  couldn't 
trust  'em  with  gold.  Tliat's  the  reason  they  did  it," 
she  continued,  finding  c  )nfirmations  for  her  theory 
multiplying  as  she  went  on. 


172  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  Not  very  far  out  of  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Dou,  com- 
paring the  notes  of  time  upon  its  face  with  those  of  a 
very  good-looking  gold  watch  which  he  took  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  speaking  ^  good  deal  as  if  the  old  horologe 
had  brought  down  with  it  a  current  of  time  from  cen- 
turies far  off,  and  as  if  it  were  as  marvellous  that  this 
should  hit  that  of  to-day  as  that  the  eastern  and  west- 
ern shafts  of  the  great  tunnel  should  come  so  wonder- 
fully together. 

"  Ah ! "  he  exclaimed,  putting  his  forefinger  to  the 
crystal.  Mrs.  Wadham's  head  went  instantly  down  to 
see. 

"  That's  some  sort  of  lingo  that's  too  much  for  me," 
she  said,  leaving  Mr.  Don  at  work,  with  pencil  and 
paper,  copying. 

"  Well,  now  for  my  boys ! "  said  the  lady,  and  she 
started  off.  "  Have  they  got  bedclothes  enough  ?  "  she 
asked,  feeling  between  the  sheets.  "  Dear  me  !  what's 
the  child  got  here  ?  A  turtle,  I  do  believe !  "  and  she 
drew  her  hand  hastily  out  again. 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  not  a  woman  to  take  counsel 
with  her  fears,  when  any  thing  was  to  be  done ;  so  she 
assailed  the  work  again,  and  flung  the  clothes  down 
over  the  bed's  foot ;  and  there,  uncovered,  on  the  mid- 
dle of  the  lower  sheet,  stood  something  more  congenial 
to  boys  than  "  turtles,"  and  perhaps  less  foreign  to  their 
beds,  something  between  two  plates  of  crockery,  and 
looking  like  rich  pastry.  She  lifted  the  upper  plate, 
and  showed  a  delicate,  flaky  pie. 

"  What  things  boys  are ! "  said  the  mother.  "  Now, 
he's  been  home  and  got  that,  without  letting  anybody 
know.  That's  my  china.  Well,  we  won't  leave  it 
there,"  she  added,  taking  it  and  looking  round  the  little 


MB.   BON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.      173 

room.  "  'Twon't  do  to  put  it  where  it'll  get  him  into 
trouble.  (If  a  tootor  should  see  it,  he'd  take  possession 
of  it.)  What's  in  here,  1  wonder  ?  "  and  she  opened 
a  small  standing  cupboard.  "  There !  we'll  put  it  in 
here,"  removing  some  of  the  rubbish  of  newspapers 
which  nearly  filled  it.  "  Ah  !  what's  this  ?  "  and  she 
laid  open  another  plate  of  pie,  much  like  the  former. 
"  Well  done ! "  she  said,  and  then  proceeded  to  explain : 
"  That  child  has  a  very  delicate  stomach.  He  always 
liked  to  have  something  a  little  nice,  between  his  meals, 
if  he  felt  hungry :  I  was  so  before  him.  Entirely  dif- 
ferent from  his  brother.  .He'll  hardly  take  any  thing, 
if  you'll  give  it  to  him,  away  from  table." 

A  human  sound,  evidently  coming  from  some  hidden 
overhearers,  not  far  off,  showed  that  there  were  other 
occupants  of  the  dormitory,  beside  those  in  sight. 

She  shut  the  door  of  the  cupboard,  and  then  called 
Mr.  Don's  attention  to  the  furniture  of  the  little  room, 
among  which  a  pair  of  boxing-gloves  was  conspicuous, 
with  jDortraits  of  jiointers  and  setters  and  some  highly- 
colored  lady  on  horseback. 

"  Every  thing's  very  neat,  Therese,  —  very  proper," 
she  said  to  the  respectable  person  whom  Mr.  Don  and 
she  called  by  different  names,  and  who,  though  she 
had  in  some  way  disposed  of  her  pile  of  clothes,  was 
still  busy  very  near  them.  "  Now  we'll  see  the  other," 
Mrs.  Wadham  said,  and  went  across  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  dormitory. 

"  This  boy  ain't  like  his  brother :  this  boy's  all  for 
reading,"  in  confirmation  of  which  assertion  copies  of 
the  "Youth's  Magazine"  and  some  closely-printed 
newspapers  might  be  seen  upon  his  table. 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  not,  like  many  persons,  satisfied 


174  ANTONY  BRADE. 

to  have  the  character  she  had  given  her  son  rest  upon 
her  own  statement  only,  but  was  entirely  willing  to  put 
it  to  a  test ;  either  not  observing  or  not  regarding  her 
companion's  looking  at  his  watcli,  as  if  he  were  becom- 
ing a  little  impatient,  and  felt  the  importance  of  time. 
The  lady  walked  straight  up  to  this  son's  little  private 
lock-up,  and,  finding  it  fastened,  went  at  once  across,  and 
borrowed  the  other's  key.  The  inside  of  the  cupboard, 
when  opened,  certainly  showed  a  different  set  of  con- 
tents from  that  of  his  brother  with  the  delicate  stomach ; 
for  here  was  an  open  box  of  "  devilled "  ham,  and  a 
large  bottle  of  mixed  pickles,  in  which  was  a  fork  of 
silver  or  plated  ware.  "  Se  seems  to  be  doing  pretty 
well,  too,"  said  the  mother,  after  a  short  pause.  "  But 
this  isn't  business,  you  may  say  "  (turning  to  Mr.  Don). 
"  I  ain't  forgetting.  Therese,  I'm  going  to  take  home 
this  fork,"  and  shutting  the  cupboard-door,  without  any 
further  i-emark  upon  the  different  characters  of  her  two 
boys,  she  returned  the  key  to  its  own  lock,  and,  hold- 
ing the  fork,  said,  "  Now  we'll  go  !  I  saw  a  scrap  of 
paper  on  the  floor  in  a  room  we  were  examining  :  I  don't 
believe  but  what  I  could  wrap  this  fork  in  it,  without 
hurting  anybody  ; "  and,  going  to  Brade's  sleeping-room, 
she  picked  up  a  piece  of  paper,  calling  Therese's  atten- 
tion to  it,  as  she  did  so,  and  promising  to  return  it, 
"if  it  was  of  any  consequence." 

"Let's  see  before  we  start,"  she  said.  "  We  can  tell 
pooty  well  if  it  amounts  to  any  thing,"  and  she  looked 
with  some  significance  to  Mr.  Don,  who  was,  or  seemed, 
entirely  calm  and  unintelligent.  "  It's  a  boy's  writing," 
she  said,  having  spread  it  open.  "  '  itwen  gatrapin  '  she 
read  aloud,  with  growing  animation,  which  seemed  to 
infect  Mr.  Don  also,  for  he  certainly  listened,  without 


MR.   DON  AND  ANOTHER  JOIN  FORCES.     175 

pretending  to  be  unconcerned.  "  Well,"  she  said,  fold- 
ing her  fork  in  the  paper,  "  I  can't  make  any  thing  out 
of  it,  any  liovv.  Remember,  Therese,  I'm  answerable. 
—  If  you're  ready,"  she  said,  addressing  her  com- 
panion. Then,  in  a  low  voice,  "  This  '11  come  in  very 
good  at  our  tableau." 

Mr.  Don  turned  and  bade  "  good  afternoon"  to  "Mrs. 
Latham,"  and  then  followed  the  large  lady  out,  and 
down  the  stairs.  As  they  went,  sounds  of  steps  and 
quick  voices  (among  these  some  quieter  tones  of  a 
woman)  could  be  heard  in  the  dormitory  which  they 
had  just  left. 

She  took  lier  way  this  time  through  the  front  hall. 
As  they  went,  she  said:  "I've  been  put  back  a  little 
with  my  party.  I  depend  upon  Mr.  Greenwood  ;  and 
he  went  off,  just  as  I  was  giving  out  my  invitations,  to 
liis  sister.  It's  a  complimentary  party  to  Brade,  —  de- 
jooney,  in  the  afternoon,  because  Mr.  Warren  won't 
let  'em  come  in  the  evening.  I  had  to  write  to  the 
Kussian  Ambassador  myself,  and  I  did,  —  autograph. 
I  told  him  about  his  young  countryman,  of  exalted 
family.  I  said  his  interest  in  him  would  bring  him  ; 
but  I  wouldn't  ask  him  to  take  that  step.  I'd  bear  all 
expenses,  both  ways,  here  and  back,  gladly,  gladly.  I 
wrote  a  second  time,  because  I  hadn't  got  any  answei-, 
and  set  the  day,  and  said  my  offer  would  hold  good,  if 
he  come  without  any  warning.  I  hope  you'll  meet 
him." 

Mr.  Don  expressed  his  pleasure  at  the  prospect  of 
meeting  so  distinguished  a  jtcrsonagC;  and  they  found 
themselves  near  the  door. 

People  are  apt  if  tlich- tho.iglits  are  sufficiently  col- 
lected  in   the   moment   of  victory,  to    tax   themselves 


176  ANTONY  BRADE. 


with  any  excesses  or  short-comings  which  they  can  see 
in  their  own  conduct,  in  the  pursuit  of  that  glittering 
prize.  Mrs.  Wadham  said,  as  she  went  downstairs : 
"  There !  I  don't  know  as  I've  liurt  anybody." 

"  You  haven't  disturbed  the  arrangements  of  the 
house,  I  think,"  said  Mi*.  Don. 

"I  think  not !"  she  said.  "Now,"  —  as  she  looked 
about  her,  outside  of  the  front  door,  which  she  had 
chosen  this  time.  "  Oh !  here  1  won't  you  take  some 
flowers  for  me,  with  a  message,  to  Mrs.  Warren  ?  "  she 
asked  of  an  abstracted-looking  boy,  so  far  off  that  he 
was  obliged  to  come  near,  and  she  to  repeat  the  mes- 
sage, before  he  could  accept  or  decline  it. 

"  A  message,"  she  repeated,  "  and  a  bouquet  to  Mrs. 
Warren,  with  my  compliments, — Mrs.  Wadham's  com- 
pliments,—  and  say  that  I  didn't  see  any  of  the  family 
about.  Eldridge  !  those  flowers  !  "  and  having  com- 
mitted them  to  her  messenger,  who,  without  her  recog- 
nizing him,  was  Jio  other  than  our  friend  Alonzo  Peters, 
and  having  taken  in  Mr.  Don,  and  having  settled  her- 
self thoroughly  in  her  seat,  she  was  driven  away,  at  a 
very  good  rate,  by  the  undined  (if  he  was  still  the 
imdined)  Eldridge. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
TRAPPING,  AND  SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE. 

BiiADE  had  made  his  way  thoroughly  into  the  man- 
ifold life  of  the  School.  Remsen  and  Antony  (with 
Peters  added)  trapped  together;  and  it  may  be  sup- 
posed that  neither  of  them  was  so  entirely  taken  up  with 
lessons  as  not  to  have  a  considerable  piece  of  his  heart 
left  to  bestow  upon  the  making  and  setting  and  visiting 
of  traps.  Caesar,  with  his  Belga3  and  -^dui,  and  Allo- 
broges,  and  Aduatuci,  and  Helvetii,  and  his  indirect 
discourse,  and  whatever  else  there  is  about  him,  was 
construed  and  parsed  and  understood.  Some  way  was 
made  in  Greek,  too ;  and  glimpses  of  flashing  shields 
and  spears  and  helmets  were  beginning  to  gleam  athwart 
the  lively  boyish  fancy.  Already  Antony,  though 
hardly  out  of  the  alphabet,  even  professed  a  strong 
drawing  toward  this  foremost  of  earthly  tongues.  On 
the  other  hand,  Remsen,  who  was  a  bright  fellow, 
though  he  did  not  get  through  his  work  always  with 
the  same  steadiness,  very  honestly  acknowledged  that 
"  he  did  not  like  either  of  'em,  but  Latin  wasn't  as  bad 
as  Greek." 

Trapping  they  both  went  into  with  equal  heartiness. 

Remsen  had,  possibly,  a  little  more  skill  in  getting  up 

traps;  and  Brade  was  as  often  good  at  choosing  ground. 

They  were  both  equally  untiring  in  following  up  their 

8*  1 


178  •  ANTONY  BRADE. 

business;  and  as  they  had  got  leave  to  "set"  in  Mr. 
Freeman's  land,  by  being  early  in  asking,  they  were 
thought  to  have  as  good  ground  as  any  boys  in  the 
School.  In  it  was  the  pine  wood,  where,  occasionally,  a 
hare,  called  by  the  boys  from  his  winter  dress  a  "  white 
rabbit,"  used  to  be  caught. 

Their  self-chosen  partner,  Peters,  was  endured,  and 
really  showed  himself  to  have  some  skill  and  a  great 
deal  of  willingness. 

One  thing  will  be  observed,  that,  as  Brade's  fortune 
has  already  brought  him  a  good  deal  into  contact  with 
Towne,  though  they  are  not  in  any  way  intimates,  so 
it  happens  that,  somehow  or  other,  they  are  still  brought 
together  in  the  life  of  the  School.  In  this  trapping, 
while  on  one  side  of  them  (for  the  whole  neighborhood 
was  parcelled  out  and  appropriated)  Will  Hirsett  had 
got  leave,  with  Meadows ;  on  the  other,  were  Towne 
and  Wilkins  and  Tarleton.  This  last  boy  grumbled 
much  that  his  party  had  not  got  the  other  ground. 

Babble-brook  (or  Brabble-brook)  ran  through  the 
whole;  and  one  particular  piece  of  marshy  ground  along 
that  stream  was  in  that  lot.  There  was  the  most 
promising  spot  in  the  whole  neighborhood  (if  not  miorj>,' 
TTJg  oixov^tvrjg.,  as  Brade  exultingly  said,  when  Rem- 
sen  and  he  were  making  their  first  survey  of  their 
domain  on  a  breezy,  warm  afternoon  in  early  October) 
for  finding  muskrats.  Tom  Spencer,  late  of  St.  Bart's, 
had,  as  the  tradition  ran,  been  in  the  habit  of  catching 
them  there  "hand  over  hand."  It  was  said  that  he 
had  bought  with  the  proceeds  the  best  pair  of  skates 
in  the  School. 

So  now  for  the  boys'  trapping;  and  let  the  young 
fellows  skip  straight  over  to  Remsen  and  Brade,  except 


TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     179 

such  of  them  as  are  wise  enough  to  go  along  with  a  ft'W 
of  us  old-time  school-boys  in  two  or  three  beautiful 
reflections  here. 

Are  there  any  such  dewy  mornings  as  those  that  we 
look  back  to  in  the  young  days  of  life  ?  Are  there  any 
such  warm,  balmy,  hazy  afternoons  as  those  that  were 
new  to  the  fresh  glance  of  the  school-boy  ?  Tell  me,  you 
that  are  limping,  now,  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  city-street, 
with  well-wrajjped  throats  and  rheumy  eyes,  and  flabby 
old  cheeks,  and  hands  stiffened  to  the  grip  of  the 
accountant's  pen  and  leaves ;  or  you  that,  in  close 
chariot,  behind  high-stepping  horses  and  arrogant  coach- 
man, hold  up  a  red  nose  and  shift  a  gouty  foot  unseen, 
—  were  there  ever  such  goings-out  as  those,  after  school, 
to  the  heart  of  the  woods  or  the  brook-side,  forty-odd 
years  ago,  before  we  knew  enough  to  care  for  bonds 
and  stocks  and  shares,  or  to  stop  even  for  an  instant, 
on  our  way,  or  even  to  stay  the  busy  blade  of  our  knife 
to  hear  the  most  startling  story  from  'Change  ?  The 
breaking-up  of  camp,  with  tramping  and  champing  of 
horses,  and  clanking  of  accoutrements,  and  roll  and 
rattle  of  drums,  and  tan-ta-ra,  tan-ta-ra  of  trumpets, 
and  rumble  and  din  and  clash,  is  an  exciting  scene;  and 
so  the  sailing  of  the  huge,  far-bound  ship,  with  the 
jostle  of  luggage  and  package  and  crate  and  passengers, 
and  the  driving  up  of  carriages  and  drays  and  wagons, 
and  a  clatter  of  block  and  tackle,  and  a  sound  of  down- 
kept  might  of  machinery,  and  a  rush  of  steam,  and  a 
flapping  of  sails,  and  a  wafting  of  colors,  is  a  scene  of 
life  and  bustle ;  so,  too,  the  sympathy  of  a  listening 
crowd,  with  fixed,  burning  eyes  and  pale  cheeks,  or 
sliding  tears  or  sudden  sobs,  will  draw  the  speaker  out 
to  the  larger  outlines  of  humanity;  and  so  the  setting- 


180  ANTONY  BRADE. 


forth,  in  full  dress,  with  some  smell  of  flowers,  and  a  little 
stiffness  of  posture,  in  lamp-lighted  and  smoothly-run- 
ning coach,  and  with  a  sense  of  bustle  and  glare,  as  we 
draw  nearer  to  the  house  of  many  shining  windows  and 
often-opening  door  where  the  ball  or  evening-party  is 
to  be,  keeps  all  the  blood  astir,  if  one  is  new  to  it. 

But  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  with  the  mists, 
all  waiting  for  the  sun  to  scatter  them ;  to  tramp  over 
damp  earth  and  wet  grass,  mingling  our  white  breath 
with  the  other  vapors ;  to  feel,  after  a  while,  the  slow 
warmth  of  the  gi-eat  Heater  on  side  or  back ;  to  go, 
crumbling  the  rotten  leaves  and  crackling  the  dry  limbs 
under  foot,  leaping  the  rail-fence  and  stone  wall;  to 
come  down  on  one  knee  at  our  figure-four  traps,  to  scan 
and  then  to  climb  our  sapling  hickory;  to  guess  the 
time  from  a  watch  that  always  acted  with  a  happy 
independence  of  every  other  regulator  and  keeper  of 
periodical  succession,  in  the  universe ;  to  hurry  back 
through  all  the  bright  cheeriness  and  glitter  of  morn- 
ing,—  this  was  life  at  its  best;  was  it  not?  When, 
since,  has  life  been  better?  Now  for  the  boys  of 
to-day. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  exactly  such  a  day  —  school- 
life  not  being  yet  fairly  opened,  and  there  being  about 
one  good  hour,  and  that  not  free  of  anxious  care  about 
time — that  Remsen  and  Brade  were  going  down  West 
Road,  while  a  fog  still  lay  over  the  face  of  a  deepish 
valley,  just  as  preparations  were  going  on  all  over  tlio 
land  for  the  sun's  coming-up.  They  were  not  quite  so 
talkative  as  if  the  hour  were  later,  bui  hurried  on, 
speculating  a  little  upon  chances,  but  stopping  for 
nothing.  As  the  day  grew  brighter,  su  Ihey,  being  a- 
part  of  nature,  grew  brighter  with  it. 


TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     181 

There  had  been  just  rain  enough  the  night  before  to 
soften  the  ground  without  making  it  muddy ;  but  tliat 
day  all  was  clear. 

From  what  they  said,  it  appeared  that,  in  spite  of  his 
being  "on  bounds,"  and  so,  of  course,  having  no  leave, 
Towne  had  gone  down,  and  Tarleton  and  Wilkins ;  and 
moreover,  fl-om  the  hope  which  they  expressed  that  no 
"  wolverine  "  had  been  along  the  line  of  traps,  it  seemed 
that  there  was  danger  of  some  ill-minded  persons 
having  stolen  the  "  catch." 

On  the  second  hill,  they  met  one  Phil  Rainor,  whose 
reputation  was  not  good,  and  whose  relations  to  the 
St.  Bart's  boys  had  not  been  always  friendly,  for  lie 
had,  at  one  time,  been  thoxaght  to  make  a  great  many 
dishonest  pennies  with  the  proceeds  of  his  robberies  of 
the  St.  Bart's  traps.  Indeed,  violent  suspicions  had, 
more  than  once,  gone  on  through  the  process  of  abso- 
lute demonstration  to  much  more  practical  violence;  in 
which  (beside  others)  Towne,  for  his  party,  and  Rem- 
sen,  for  himself,  had  used  arguments  more  weighty  and 
effective  than  any  that  they  knew  how  to  make  with 
words. 

Rainor  was  now,  professedly,  on  the  footing  of  a 
mutual  understanding,  although  the  Bartholomajans 
had  not  yet  made  up  their  minds  that  he  was  a  changed 
boy. 

This  time,  at  least,  his  hands  were  empty,  and  there 
was  no  load  in  his  pockets,  or  hanging  about  him. 
This,  the  intelligent  eyes  of  the  two  boys  could  see,  at 
a  glance,  almost  as  far  as  they  could  see  him.  There 
was  something,  therefore,  almost  like  cordiality,  in  their 
hasty  greeting  as  they  ran  by. 

Phil  Rahior,  too,  seemed  more  than  usually  hearty ; 


182  ANTONY  BRADE. 


for  he  called  after  them:  "That's  your  snare  (ain't  it?) 
down  there  by  Indian  Rock  ?  Well,  it's  ketched  a  big 
white  rabbit ! " 

This  news,  as  may  be  supjDOsed,  put  new  spirit  into 
every  limb  of  our  trappers.  Over  the  first  fence  they 
went  at  such  a  rate  that  Brade  tripped  on  a  branch  of 
a  tree,  inside,  and  went  down  sprawling  with  Rcmsen 
on  top  of  him ;  both  picking  themselves  up  in  the  short- 
est possible  time,  and  in  excellent  humor. 

"Hurt  your  side,  Anty?"  asked  Remsen,  as  Brade 
held  a  hand  to  his  bosom. 

"It's  the  watch!"  answered  Antony,  showing,  when 
he  took  away  his  hand,  a  lump  very  large  to  be  made 
by  any  ordinary  time-i^iece. 

"  Don't  stop  to  look  at  it  now ! "  said  Remsen ;  and 
on  they  went. 

"He  knows  everybody's  traps,  doesn't  he?"  said 
Brade. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Remsen,  "  and  I  don't  see  what  he's 
round  'em  for,  unless  for  some  badness;"  but  it  was 
bright  morning,  and  the  boys  were  in  good  cheer. 
Besides,  they  agreed  that  he  had  given  them  good 
news,  and  that,  if  he  had  had  any  plunder  with  him,  they 
w^ould  have  seen  some  sign  of  it.  So  Phil  Rainor  went 
out  of  their  thoughts  absolved,  for  this  time. 

What  they  had  said  about  Towne  and  others  being 
before  them  was  true ;  for  Towne  and  Wilkins,  with 
Tarleton  behind,  were  coming  up  before  our  two  had 
got  to  their  ground.  Towne  was  in  luck,  too,  it  would 
seem,  as  well  as  they ;  for  he  swung  in  the  air  some- 
thing which  their  quick  eyes  recognized  as  "  a  big 
white  rabbit."  Beasts  of  that  sort  were  rare;  audit 
must  have  been  a  sort  of  golden  shower  for  Towne  to 


TBAPPING,  AND  SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.      183 


have  one,  and  for  them  to  have  one,  on  the  same  morn- 
ing. 

They  quickened  their  steps ;  although  they  said,  as  if 
the  same  reasoning  had  passed  through  both  minds, 
*'  We've  got  plenty  of  time." 

Towne  added  a  caution  that  "they'd  better  hurry;" 
a  piece  of  advice  which  good  people  are  pretty  generally 
ready  to  give  to  those  later  than  themselves.  Tarleton 
added,  quite  as  much  in  the  usual  style  of  boys,  — 

"  Ho !  you  needn't  hurry :  you  haven't  got  any  thing," 

Reinsen  and  Brade  were  already  a  good  way  on, 
running  helter-skelter,  when  Towne's  warning  reached 
them, 

"  We're  going  wg  Tdiiara  *  now,"  said  Brade,  like  a 
little  pedant,  perhaps ;  but  both  were  in  fine  spirits,  and 
so  Remsen  did  not  object,  and  Antony  enjoyed  it.  If 
Remsen  did  not  understand,  he  was  not  at  the  trouble 
to  ask  an  explanation. 

Time  was  short,  and  all  the  way  was  to  be  measured 
back  again  to  St.  Bart's.  So  on  they  went,  so  fast  that 
they  could  not  catch  breath  enough  to  make  words 
with, 

"  That  fellow's  cheated  us  !  "  cried  one,  or  both,  as 
they  came  within  sight  of  their  snare,  and  stood  for  an 
instant,  looking  first  at  that,  and  then  toward  the  riglit 
and  left. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  said  Remsen,  "  let's  see  !  the  string's 
all  gone  close  to  tlie  bough  !  see  that  bit  dangling ! " 
Then,  showing  a  bit  of  white  fur,  which  his  sharp,  and 
practised  eye  liad  detected,  "  See  here  !  there's  been  u 
rabbit  in  it,  and  a  white  rabbit,  too  !  " 

"  He's  got  away ! "  said  Brade,  mournfully. 
*  As  fast  as  possible. 


184  ANTONY  BRADE. 


Remsen  was  a  boy  of  experience  in  trapping,  and  he 
said  :  "  So  he  might ;  but,"  he  added,  "  no  rabbit  ever 
got  away  from  one  snare  and  into  another,  right  off! 
And  two  such  fellows  ain't  caught  in  one  night,  neither. 
If  any  fellow'd  do  that,  he  ought  to  be  horsewhij)ped ! 
lie  ought  to  be  turned  out  of  the  school !  'Tain't  likely 
he'd  break  that  big  cord  we  had  !  " 

There  was  much  confusion  of  persons  and  things  in 
this  speech,  as,  of  course,  in  his  mind ;  but  the  wrong 
was  clear,  and  so  Remsen  kicked  the  tree,  and  threw 
his  hat  on  the  ground,  and  stamped  it  with  his  foot.  It 
was  pretty  hard,  after  their  cheery  hopes,  to  find  worse 
than  nothing,  and  to  have  the  evidence  before  their 
eyes  that  their  snare  had  had  and  lost  its  game !  Brade 
looked  cast-down  enough,  while  Remsen  thus  vented 
his  indignant  anger  on  things  in  general. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Remsen,  "  there's  been  foul 
play!  and  look  at  the  footsteps  round  here,  —  plenty  of 
'em !  "  and  he  turned  away.  "  Well,  leave  'em  so ! " 
he  said.     "  Don't  go  near  'em,  so's  to  scrape  'em  out." 

Brade  proposed  to  make  a  round  of  their  traps,  as 
fast  as  they  could  (for  time  was  short)  ;  and  Remsen 
mechanically  assented. 

They  made  the  round,  with  little  hope,  perhaps,  but 
in  very  short  time.     They  found  nothing. 

"  Well,"  said  Remsen,  "  we  may  as  well  go  back;"  and 
they  set  out  for  home. 

The  day  came  up,  not  with  the  thick-springing  bird- 
songs  of  June  or  May,  to  be  sure,  —  not  with  fragrance 
of  flower ;  but  it  came  up  with  splendor  of  sky  and 
sparkle  of  earth,  and  cheery  sounds  from  the  farm- 
yards, and  hammering  of  some  carpenter  or  carpenter- 
ing farmer. 


.    TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE,     185 

It  might  not  be  true  that  our  two  disappointed  boys 
saw  or  heard  much  of  what  w^as  going  on ;  but  it  was 
true  that  their  loss  did  not  quite  take  away  all  spirit 
from  them,  —  perhaps  because  they  had  morning  blood 
in  them. 

"  Certainly  old  Towne  wouldn't  take  ours,  to  trick 
us,"  said  Brade,  "  and  give  it  to  us  when  we  get 
up?" 

"  'Tain't  likely,"  said  Remsen.  "  We  sha'n't  see  our 
rabbit  very  soon." 

There  was  a  smithy  on  that  road,  and,  as  they  came 
up  to  it,  Rainor  came  out  to  meet  them,  holding  in  one 
hand  a  forge-hammer,  and  in  the  other  a  bit  of  iron,  as 
if  just  from  the  anvil. 

"  Where's  your  rabbit  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other. 

"  We  thought  we'd  leave  him  down  there  for  some- 
body to  steal,"  said  Remsen. 

"Why!  hain't  ye  got  him?"  asked  Rainor,  again, 
looking  very  much  astonished.  Then,  as  the  boys  went 
on,  he  went  on  beside  them,  and  kept  up  his  talking. 
"Ye  see  Towne's,  didn't  ye?  Well,  jest  about  s'ch 
another  whapper.  I  tell  ye  how  you'll  know  your'n  : 
he  had  his  right  ear  split  down  quite  a  ways,  an'  his 
right  fore  foot  bloody  about  the  toes.  I  took  p'ticklar 
notice  to  him,  for  I  come  right  down  'cross  lots,  jest 
where  he  was.  He  was  in  your  snare  there,  ketched 
right  round  his  belly.  I  should  jest  want  to  take  a 
look  at  Towne's,  'f  I  was  you,  —  white,  and  a  brown 
spot  on  his  nigh  shoulder." 

"  I  suppose  rabbits  are  all  alike,"  said  Brade ;  "  but 
what's  his  '  nigh  '  shoulder  ?  "  he  asked,  puzzled  by  this 
rustic  word. 


186  "  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  Why  !  "  said  Rainor,  "  his  left  shoulder,  of  course ; 
but  rabbits  ain't  alike,  —  not  by  a  long  chalk!  Not  that 
sort,  at  no  time  o'  year,  —  nary  two  of  'em,  never."  The 
negatives  in  this  sentence  would  make  a  study  for 
philologists  and  grammarians,  as  showing  the  kindred 
character  and  habit  of  two  great  sister-languages  of 
the  Aryan  stock, — the  Greek  and  the  English.  IIo 
finished  in  this  way:  "  an'  there  ain't  two  of 'em  ketched 
in  a  —  year,  I  was'go'n'  to  say." 

Here  he  said  "he  must  go  back  to  the  shop,"  and 
left  them.  From  this  time  our  friends,  though  they 
kept  up  their  rate  of  going,  went  silently. 

For  some  while,  Antony,  still  hurrying  on,  was  pull- 
ing earnestly  at  something  which  he  seemed  determined 
to  get  out  of  his  pocket,  but  which,  for  its  part,  was 
equally  resolute  not  to  come.  He  bent  over,  and 
-wriggled  his  body  (still  going  on),  and  put  up  one 
knee,  half  stopping  as  he  did  so  ;  he  worked  the  thing 
one  way  and  the  other ;  he  pushed  down,  and  then 
j)ulled  up  again,  until  at  length  there  came  up  to  the 
light  of  the  morning  a  large,  ro\ind,  thick  thing  of 
silver,  —  a  strange-looking  bivalve,  with  one  of  its 
sides  obscured  by  mist,  doubtless  from  the  heat  of 
tlic  boy's  body. 

Nick  Remsen  wiped  the  mist  off  with  his  cuff;  and 
both  Brade  and  he  stopped  and  studied,  coniidingly, 
the  dial-fiice,  which  now  stood  revealed  in  silver,  under 
a  crystal  dome  rounded  like  that  of  the  Capitol,  or  (to 
be  classical)  like  the  bossy  shield  of  Achilles.  On  the 
broad  i)lain  of  silver  was  an  outside  circle  of  Arabic 
numerals,  and  an  inner  circle  of  numeral  letters,  —  tlie 
former  for  minutes,  the  latter  for  hours.  Other  devices, 
of  angels  and  scrolls,  we  pass  over  lor  the  time. 


TRAPPING,   AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     18T 

The  boys  studied  the  pointing  of  the  two  strong 
arms. 

"  Only  a  little  over  half-past !  "  said  Remsen,  wiping 
once  more  the  glass,  which  was  still  smeary.  "  We'll 
see  Towne  before  roll-call :  there's  time  enough;"  add- 
ing, presently,  "  no  Bartlemas  fellow'd  steal  our  rabbit, 
of  course,  —  that  ain't  to  be  thought  of." 

As  they  came  into  the  school-grounds,  every  thing 
was  quiet,  with  no  signs  of  life  abroad.  Remsen  led 
the  way  over  to  the  gymnasium.  A  board  stood  up 
against  the  eastern  end,  on  which  was  stretched,  by 
tacks,  the  fresh  skin  of  a  hare,  or,  as  the  boys  called  it, 
"  a  white  rabbit."  Brade  could  not  yet  have  got  over 
the  feeling  of  their  own  loss,  and  still,  so  strong  was 
instinct  in  him,  that  he  began,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the 
raw  pelt,  to  say  something  about  "Marsyas,"  whose 
skin  Apollo  had  flayed  olF. 

Remsen,  for  his  part,  was  altogether  in  serious 
earnest.  He  walked  straight  up,  in  silence,  to  the 
board,  and  jDut  his  finger  on  the  green  skin,  although 
he  hardly  needed  the  assurance  of  touch  to  establish  its 
freshness. 

"  He's  carried  oif  the  head,"  said  he,  after  looking 
about  hastily,  on  that  side  and  on  the  back  side  of  the 
building.  «  There's  the  Tutor's  bell !  "  he  said.  "  Why, 
it  can't  be  so  late !     You  saw  what  o'clock  it  was." 

In  spite  of  the  authority  of  the  watch,  cou])lcd  with 
the  testimony  of  common  sense,  the  boys  hurried  over 
to  the  storm-house  door,  Brade  saying,  as  they  went, 
"  I  thought  it  was  very  still  all  about," 

Luckily  for  them,  the  boys  were  quiet  in  their  seats; 
and  the  two,  as  they  came  inside  the  hall,  could  see 
that  something  had  been  going  on.     They  went  silently 


188  ANTONY  BEADE. 

to  their  places,  and  evidently  were  each  marked  tardy; 
but  it  was  plain  that  the  roll  had  not  been  called,  and 
they  were  safe  for  breakfast.  Sam  Blake  looked  half 
across  the  school-room,  till  he  caught  Remsen's  eye, 
and  then  raised  his  brows,  as  if  asking  a  question. 
Remsen  hastily  shook  his  head. 

The  roll  was  called,  and  the  boys  went  out  orderly, 
as  usual,  to  their  breakfast.  Towne  was  inclined  to  be 
communicative,  as  he  commonly  was,  on  the  way,  — 
turning  round  and  saying  something  to  a  boy  behind, 
or  calling  out,  in  a  loud  whisper,  to  some  one  in  front. 
Remsen  and  Brade  were  unapproachable.  One  thing 
he  seemed  to  think  would  prevail  with  the  latter. 
Turning  round  and  facing  him,  he  said  rhetorically, 
with  a  good  deal  of  gesture,  "  Pediculum  captavi  ! " 
but  he  produced  no  effect  on  the  boy  whom  he  so 
learnedly  addressed.  In  his  eagerness  to  vent  his 
Latin  sentence,  he  probably  had  not  known  how  loudly 
he  was  speaking.  Gaston  heard  it,  at  some  distance  in 
front,  and  immediately,  in  spite  of  rules  and  tutors, 
burst  out  laughing. 

"  Towne  wants  to  say  he's  caught  a  rabbit,"  said  he, 
"  and  he  says  he's  caught  a  — !  "  The  word  was  whis- 
pei'cd  in  the  ear  of  the  next  boy,  and  while  poor  Towne 
looked  amazed,  and  presently  very  sheepish,  the  commu- 
nication passed  fi'om  one  to  another  as  fast  almost  as  a 
message  by  telegraph,  and  everybody  was  laughing  at 
the  Latinity  which  its  author  had  uttered  with  so  much 
confidence  and  flourish.  The  smaller  boys  could  hardly 
walk  for  laughter. 

"Towne!"  said  Mr.  Bruce,  the  Tutor,  "stand  out 
of  the  procession."  And  he  took  his  stand  at  one  side, 
evidently  not  understanding  things. 


TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     189 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  such  a  disgusting  sentence ! " 
asked  the  Tutor. 

"  Why,  I  don't  see  how  it's  disgusting,  sir.  All  I 
meant  to  say  was,  '  I've  caught  a  rabbit.' " 

"  Well,  that  isn't  what  you  did  say,"  answered  the 
Tutor. 

"  Why,  Gas — ,  why,  sir,  one  o'  the  fellows  gave  it  me 
for  good  Latin.  He  told  me  that's  what  it  meant,  and 
that's  what  I  meant  to  say,"  said  Towne,  with  evident 
honesty. 

"  Gaston's  Latin  is  well  enough,"  said  Mr.  Bruce, 
smiling ;  "  but  you'd  better  take  care  of  people's  giving 
you  Latin  till  you  know  enough  to  find  out  what  it 
means." 

"  Oh !  I  don't  mean  to  say  it  was  Gaston  "  —  began 
Towne,  but  stopped  there,  and  smiled,  too,  like  the 
Tutor. 

The  procession  had  gone  into  breakfast,  the  blessing 
had  been  said,  the  clatter  of  chairs  had  ended,  and  the 
boys'  chatter  and  the  clink  of  knife  and  plate  had 
begun.  Mr.  Bruce  wanted  breakfast,  no  doubt,  but  he 
had  not  done  with  Towne. 

"  That  mud  looks  fresh  upon  your  clothes,  Towne," 
said  he ;  and  it  was  only  after  acknowledging  that  he 
had  broken  bounds,  a  thing  which  would  bring  a  pretty 
heavy  penalty,  that  the  poor  lad  was  sent  in  to  his  fel- 
lows, and  Mr.  Bruce  followed. 

The  boys  had  gone  to  the  dining-room  in  very  good 
humor,  while  the  Tutors  looked  extraordinarily  grave 
and  unconscious  of  the  fun.  As  Towne  came  in,  still 
sheepish-looking,  he  nearly  set  the  laughter  all  going 
again  :  even  Brade  and  Remsen  could  hardly  resist  the 
influence ;  and,  as  Towne  sat  down  at  table,  they  both 


190  ANTONY  SHADE. 

looked  at  him,  not  savagely.  Presently,  sometliing 
happened  which  changed  the  condition  of  things. 

A  smoking,  savory-looking  mess  was  brought  in,  with 
much  gravity,  by  the  head  waiter,  and  set  down  in 
front  of  Towne.  At  the  sight,  his  late  discomfitures 
seemed  to  slip  out  of  his  mind,  and  a  look  of  good- 
nature and  hospitality  took  possession  of  his  face. 
With  the  courtesy  customary  at  St.  Bart's,  he  immedi- 
ately set  his  dish  in  progress,  to  share  his  dainties  with 
others.  First  it  went  to  the  Rector,  and  was  duly 
acknowledged,  though  not  touched.  Towne,  though  a 
lazy  fellow,  and  sometimes  grumbling,  was  free-hearted 
and  loyal ;  and  as  he  looked  ujj,  blushing,  to  the  Rec- 
tor's table,  wishing  to  see  some  of  his  rabbit  accepted 
by  the  Head  of  the  School,  his  plain  face  was  bettered. 
"  You  fellows  didn't  get  any  thing  this  morning,"  he 
said,  across  the  table,  "  take  some  of  our  rabbit,  won't 
you  ?  "  and  he  set  it  forward  toward  Remsen  and  Brade. 
It  had  been  served  up  in  style ;  and  the  head  and  long 
ears  made  quite  a  show,  separated  by  a  bit  of  toast 
from  the  other  members. 

The  two  boys  had  already  lost  the  expression  which 
they  had  brought  in  to  the  table ;  and  they  both  coldly 
declined,  —  Brade  following  Remsen.  Towne,  perhaps, 
had  not  observed  the  distance  of  their  manner,  for 
he  pressed  his  kindness  on  them,  telling  them  that 
"  there  was  plenty,  and  that  they  need  not  be  afraid  to 
take  it." 

Remsen  went  so  far  as  to  look  closely  at  one  of  the 
ears,  while  the  head  was  near  him ;  but  he  put  no  hand 
to  the  dish.    The  owner  was  hurt. 

"  There  are  plenty  more  that'll  take  it,  if  you  won't," 
ho  said  j  a  sentiment  which  was  heartily  responded  to 


TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     191 

by  Arthur  Dover,  commonly  called  "  Fatty,"  and  by 
Wilkins  and  others.  The  dish  circulated,  —  first  to 
Towne's  two  partners,  then  to  others,  —  and  came  back, 
considerably  lessened,  to  the  hospitable  first  partner. 
He  showed,  by  his  way  of  dealing  with  it,  that  he 
understood  and  appreciated  it  thoroughly,  even  though 
he  had  not  been  able  to  give  it  its  Latin  name. 

Breakfast  passed  :  the  rabbit  was  all  consumed  ;  but 
with  this  gathering  coldness  and  storm,  which  were  evi- 
dent to  all  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood,  there  was  an 
uncomfortable  silence  at  that  part  of  the  younger  table  ; 
and  others  after  Brade  and  Remsen  were  rather  awk- 
ward in  speaking  to  Towne  and  his  partners.  All  of 
them  were  observed,  as  if  there  was  a  general  waiting 
to  know  what  was  to  come. 

Doubts,  suspicions,  disagreements,  quarrels  (it  is  good 
that  we  have  to  go  out  of  kindly  English  to  Latin  for 
these  words)  are  very  serious  things  with  boys,  as  well 
as  with  their  elders.  Boys  of  good  feelings  have  not 
yet  brushed  through  and  thrown  aside,  or  trampled 
down,  many  estrangements  and  embittered  friendshij^s, 
and  so  grown  heedless  of  them. 

Li  a  case  like  this,  between  Towne  and  the  two  other 
boys,  it  would  be  impossible  to  believe,  without  over- 
whelming proof,  that  any  of  their  own  companions 
could  be  guilty  of  downright  and  low  thieving.  There 
are,  of  course,  boys,  as  there  are  men,  who  carry  teas- 
ing, and  what  they  call  "  practical  joking "  to  the 
utmost  stretch  of  falseness,  short  of  making  actual  gain 
of  it,  at  last.  But  to  take,  and  carry  away,  and  skin 
another  boy's  rabbit ;  to  eat  the  flesh  and  keep  the 
skin,  —  this  could  scarcely  be  believed  of  school-fellows 
anywhere;    and,  of  course,  of   school-fellows  at  St. 


192  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Bart's.  Towne,  or  others,  might  make  themselves  ex- 
ceedingly disagreeable,  —  they  might  be  even  a  stand- 
ing nuisance,  as  confirmed  "practical  jokers"  always 
are ;  but  they  would  not  steal,  and  then  lie  about  the 
tlieft. 

Yet  the  thing  looked  badly,  and  must  be  explained. 

This  would  be  the  natural  reasoning  of  Remsen  and 
Brade. 

As  things  stood,  they  could  hardly  get  away  from 
the  conclusion  that  he,  or  his  fellows,  had  taken  their 
rabbit ;  but  they  had  not  asked  him  "  up  and  down." 
Tliis,  therefore,  they  proposed  to  do. 

Towne,  sitting  lower  at  the  table,  went  out  before 
them;  and,  by  the  time  they  got  well  abroad,  he  was 
already  on  the  gravel,  marking  out  the  ground  for  some 
purpose,  attended  by  Wilkins  and  Dover.  As  Remsen 
and  Brade  drew  near,  he  stood  up  from  his  occupation, 
and  of  himself  addressed  them. 

Our  readers  already  know  the  bright  freshness  of 
that  morning,  and  have  felt  the  spirit  and  strength 
which  such  a  day  brings  up  with  it. 

"  What  ailed  you  fellows,  at  breakfost?  Anybody'd 
have  thought  our  rabbit  was  rotten,  or  something,  by 
the  way  you  acted." 

This  was  certainly  rather  frank  and  manly. 

"  I  should  want  to  know  where  you  got  that  rabbit, 
first  ?  "  answered  Remsen 

"  Why,  we  got  him  out  of  the  field,  like  anybody," 
Baid  Towne. 

"  But  I  should  like  to  know  whose  snare  you  caught 
him  with,"  said  the  other. 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  the  goodness 
of  the  meat,"  said  Towne. 


TRAPPING,   AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     193 

Remsen  made  an  emphatic  gesture  with  his  head,  as 
he  answered,  — 

"  A  good  deal  to  do  with  my  eating  him." 

"  Why  !  why  ain't  Tarleton's  trap  as  good  as  yours, 
any  day,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  "  said  Towne.  "  I  guess 
that's  a  noo  idea,  that  one  fellow's  trap's  wholesomer'n 
another's."  He  spoke  like  one  that  had  common  sense 
on  his  side,  but  could  not  see  what  the  other  party  were 
driving  at. 

"  And  when  did  you  ever  know  even  a  common  rab- 
bit get  caught  in  an  iron  trap  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

Remsen  was  growing  pale  and  agitated.  Before  he 
spoke  again,  Brade,  who  had  been  entirely  silent,  spoke, 
and  it  was  plain  that  he,  too,  was  very  much  excited, 
though  in  another  way,  for  he  was  flushed. 

"But  did  you  take  him  out  of  our  snare?"  he  asked, 
directly, 

"  Take  him  out  of  your  snare  !  "  exclaimed  Towne, 
now,  for  the  first  time,  showing  any  understanding  of 
the  case,  or  any  real  feeling.  "  No  !  of  course  we  didn't 
take  him  out  of  your  snare !  You  don't  suppose  we're 
thieves,  do  you  ?  " 

Now  the  thing  was  brought  to  a  point.  The  boys 
suspected  had  denied,  absolutely,  that  they  had  done 
the  bad  thing  suspected. 

Wilkins  had  come  immediately  forward  at  the  first 
question,  and  had  stood  ready  to  come  into  the  confei*- 
ence,  whenever  there  should  be  a  chance.  Now,  then, 
Wilkins,  the  instant  the  denial  had  been  made,  sup- 
ported it  by  testimony  of  his  own. 

"  Why,  I  was  the  first  one  that  got  there,"  he  said, 
"  and  there  he  was  in  our  trap  when  I  got  there." 

This  testimony  seemed  clear  and  conclusive :   that 


194  ANTONY  BRADE. 


Tery  rabbit  which  had  been  skinned  and  eaten  had  been 
caught  fairly  in  the  other  party's  trap.  What  coukl  be 
said  ?     Remscn,  however,  was  still  full  of  question. 

Now,  even  lawyers,  although  they  are  men,  and  in 
constant  practice,  seem  sometimes  to  make  poor  work 
of  examining  witnesses ;  and  Remsen  had  not  the 
experience  of  a  lawyer.  His  questions,  therefore,  were, 
most  likely,  not  so  well  aimed  or  so  well  expressed  as 
they  might  have  been. 

"You  didn't  know  there  was  a  rabbit  in  our  snare, 
this  morning?  and  his  left  ear  was  split  down?  and  his 
right  fore  foot  bloody,  between  the  first  and  second 
claws  ?  and  a  brown  spot  on  his  left  shoulder  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  fellows  jawing  about  ?  How  was  I 
going  to  know  ?  I  never  went  near  your  trap,  —  I,  nor 
any  of  us,' either,"  answered  Towue.  "  Supjjose  I  had 
known  ?  —  what  then  ?  " 

By  this  time,  boys  coming  and  going  had  begun  to 
stop,  in  the  way,  beside  these  excited  disjiutants.  In- 
deed, quite  a  crowd  was  gathering.  Outside  of  the 
ring,  Alonzo  Peters  was  flitting  about,  paling  and  flush- 
ing, and  sometimes  stopping,  and  seemingly  on  the  point 
of  speaking. 

"  Let's  go  off*,  somewhere  else,"  said  Brade  to  Rem- 
sen.    "  We  don't  want  the  whole  school  round  us." 

Remsen  was  too  full  of  his  subject  to  care  about 
surroundings.  Towne,  too,  said  that  he  "  did  not  care 
how  many  came  round.  They  might  come  and  wel- 
come, for  all  he  cared." 

The  bearing  of  Remsen's  question  is  not,  perhajis, 
obvious  to  the  reader;  nor  was  it,  very  likely,  obvious 
to  Towne.  "  What  have  I  got  to  do  with  your  rabbit? 
Why  didn't  you  bring  up  your  rabbit,  if  you  had  one  ? 


TRAPPING,   AND   SOME  AFTER-TROUBLE.     195 

What  did  you  do  with  him  ?  "  And  Towne  laughed 
Bcornfully. 

Kerasen  drew  his  hand  out  of  his  pocket,  and  held  up 
a  hare's  head  :  — 

"  There's  something  just  like  ours,  any  way,"  said  he, 
showing  the  ear  split  down. 

"  That  looks  amazingly  like  mine ! "  said  Towne. 
"  My  ear  was  so." 

Some  of  the  crowd  laughed. 

"  I  do  believe  that's  my  head,"  said  Towne,  —  "I'm 
sure  of  it,"  he  added,  gaining  strength  of  conviction,  as 
he  looked  at  it  longer. 

Of  course  the  chance  of  an  easy  joke  was  not  lost 
upon  the  crowd ;  and  Tom  Hutchins,  accordingly, 
made  as  much  of  it  as  he  could,  calling  out,  more  than 
once,  — 

"  Towne's  head !  Towne  says  that's  his  head  !  Twig 
the  long  ears  it's  got !  " 

"  That's  your  head  if  you  want  it,"  said  Renisen,  too 
much  in  earnest  to  see  any  thing  like  a  joke  in  the 
case;  "but  I  want  you  just  to  take  notice  to  the  way 
that  left  ear  is  split  down,  — just  the  way  ours  was." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  with  yours  ?  "  asked  Towne. 
*'  Did  you  let  it  go  ?  " 

"  Let  it  go  !  "  exclaimed  Remsen  :  "  it's  likely  we'd  let 
it  go,  —  we  never  had  it." 

"  Well,  if  here  ain't  ;i  pretty  story ! "  said  Towne  : 
"coming  here,  getting  angry,  and  abusing  a  fellah  like 
a  pickpocket !  I  can't  make  out  what  you  mean,  for 
my  part." 

Brade  had  had  very  little  share  of  the  controversy; 
but  he  had  stood  close  u;i  ti  the  two  main  speakers, 
with  liis  face  flushed  and  his  eyes  sparkling,  and  he 


I9ff  ANTONY  BEADS. 


joined  a  good  deal  of  dumb  show  to  the  discussion, 
looking  from  one  speaker  to  the  other,  and  liandling 
the  head  when  it  was  brought  forward.  He  now 
spoke : — 

"  Rainor  told  us  he  was  in  our  snare,"  he  said. 

"  Then  Rainor  was  mistaken  in  the  place,  I  suppose," 
said  Towne. 

"No,  he  said  our  snare,  by  Indian  Rock,"  insisted 
Brade. 

"  Well,  then,  Rainor  lies, —  that's  all.  If  he  says  that 
rabbit  was  in  your  snare,  Indian  Rock,  or  any  rock,  he 
lies." 

"  He  told  us  right  about  the  ear,  any  way,"  said 
Remsen  ;  "  and  he  said  there  was  a  brown  spot  on  the 
left  shoulder.     Dar'st  you  let  us  look  at  the  skin  ?  " 

Towne  turned  with  some  dignity  to  the  gathering  of 
boys  before  he  answered,  and  having  looked  hastily 
round,  as  if  to  see  what  shape  public  opinion  was 
taking,  he  said :  — 

"  Of  course  I  dare ;  but  I  say,  before  all  these  boys, 
At  first,  I  didn't  know  what  you  were  driving  at ;  but 
if  you're  going  upon  the  supposition  that  we're  thieves 
till  we've  proved  we  ain't,  after  I've  told  you  we  found 
that  rabbit  in  our  trap,  I  won't  have  any  thing  to  do 
with  it.  I'll  leave  it  out  to  any  fair  judges,  —  to  any 
two  monitors,  —  I  say  Russell  and  Lamson." 

At  this  moment  the  bell,  which  had  not  improbably 
been  waiting  the  issue  of  the  discussion,  for  its  ringer 
was  mortal  and  a  boy,  began  to  roll  over  and  over,  and 
sound  its  "  Ding !  "  in  one  direction,  and  its  "  Dong  ! " 
in  another,  and  the  gathering  of  boys  began  to  move, 
—  some  running  off  immediately  to  the  liouse,  some 
walking  leisurely  in  the  same  direction,  and  even  those 


TRAPPING,  AND   SOME  AFTER-TBOVBLE.    197 

who  did  not  yet  leave  the  scene  of  controversy  became 
restless,  as  if  keeping  their  legs  ready  to  go  at  the  last 
moment. 

"Rainor  is  a  great  liar,"  said  Brade,  who  seemed 
ready  to  relent  and  to  make  up,  and  who  was  now 
impatient  to  go,  and  had  half  started.  "I  believe 
Towne." 

"  But  weren't  the  white  hairs  sticking  right  under- 
neath our  snare,  when  we  saw  it?"  asked  Remsen;  and 
again  the  complexion  of  things  changed. 

"  Here  comes  Russell,  now  ! "  said  Brade.  "  Let's 
leave  it  to  him  and  Lamson,  as  Towne  says."  And,  as 
Russell,  in  coming  up  from  the  home  play-ground,  was 
turning  towards  the  school-house,  the  crowd,  foremost 
of  whom  Brade  was  allowed  to  go,  as  being  one  of  the 
parties,  and  of  the  parties  the  one  most  impatient  to 
have  the  difficulty  settled,  joined  him ;  and  Brade  and 
Remsen  hastily  set  the  case  before  him,  from  their 
side. 

"And  you  got  your  information  from  Rainor,  did 
you?" 

"  And  I  say,"  said  Towne,  "  that  that  rabbit  was  in 
our  trap,  when  we  came  to  it." 

"  And  I  say  that  I  came  there  first,"  said  Wilkins, 
"  and  he  was  there  when  I  got  there." 

"And  you  all  agree  to  take  our  judgment?"  asked 
Russell.     "  Where's  Tarleton  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Towne,  "  if  you'll  only  agree  to  take 
time  to  it,  and  find  out  all  about  it."  "  And  I,"  said 
Brade ;  "  and  I,"  said  Wilkins ;  "  and  I,"  said  Remsen. 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  person  to  watch  the  traps, 
till  you  get  there,"  said  Towne. 

"  Well,  the  fellow  for  that  is  Jake  Moody  ;  and  he'll 


198  ANTONY  BRADE. 

do  it,  —  if  you  could  only  get  liira,"  said  Russell,  chang- 
ing to  optative  or  potential,  as  he  thought  how  little 
time  they  could  command. 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth,  and  without 
regard  to  time  or  season,  Remsen  went  off,  like  a 
flash. 

"Then  you're  all  agreed?"  Russell  asked,  as  they 
reached  the  door. 

All  who  were  there  answered  "  yes ; "  and  the  boys 
went  in,  crowding  and  jostling  and  pushing,  to  be  in 
time. 

Dover  and  Wilklns  were  compelled  to  give  way  to 
every  other  member  of  the  little  throng;  and  then 
Eugene  Augustus  Wilkins  asserted  himself  upon  Arthur 
Dover,  who  was  smaller,  and  succeeded  in  getting  in 
before  him.  Before  the  last  boy  was  fairly  in  the 
school-room,  Remsen  came,  out  of  breath,  but  answer- 
ing the  inquisitive  look  of  Blake  and  others  by  a  quick, 
affirmative,  satisfied  nod  of  the  head. 

Outside  stayed  sunshine,  on  the  hills  behind ;  and 
near  the  door  a  small  litter  of  hockey-sticks  and  other 
remains  of  boys.  A  smothered  storm  of  bitterness 
und  angry  feeling  had  come  through  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SOME  FIGHTING    THAT   WILL   DISGUST 
BRUISERS. 

One  of  Towue's  comrades  in  trapping  was,  as  will 
be  remembered,  one  Guy  Tarlcton.  Tliis  boy,  by 
some  reasoning  of  his  own,  had  convinced  himself  that 
his  party  had  been  "  choused  out  "  of  the  best  trapping- 
ground  by  Kemsen  and  Brade's  party,  and  had  borne 
an  undying  grudge.  He  was  counted  a  thick-headed 
and  rather  brutal  boy ;  but,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
School,  had  a  sort  of  instinctive  readiness  and  skill  in 
contriving  and  working  against  such  lesser  beasts  as 
lived  in  trees,  in  holes,  and  in  stone  fences. 

He  had  been  noisy  in  the  few  minutes  after  morning- 
school,  before  dinner,  over  the  suspicion  which  had 
been  thrown  upon  his  partners  and  himself,  and  pro- 
posed to  "  make  those  fellows  eat  dirt."  His  bluster 
had  had,  at  that  time,  little  notice  taken  of  it.  At 
table  he  had  been  silenced  by  the  Tutor  for  loud  talk- 
ing. After  dinner,  the  pent-up  current  of  his  anger 
found  its  way  again. 

Towne  told  him  that  two  of  the  monitors  were  going 
to  settle  about  the  rabbit,  and  went  off  to  some  out- 
door occupation,  leaving  him  unappeased. 

In  the  few  minutes  after  dinner  he  had  foiind  out 
Brade,  reading,  on  one  of  tlie  stairs,  and  tried  to  pick  a 
quarrel  with  him,  but  to  no  purpose;   for  Brade  told 


200  ANTONY  BRADE. 

him,  pleasantly,  that  "  he  was  reading  about  Franklin 
and  the  icebergs,  and  wanted  to  be  let  alone ;  that 
the  monitors'  settlement  would  all  be  fair,  and  that 
he,  himself,  would  have  no  quan-el ; "  and  so  kept  on, 
though  not  quite  unruffled,  with  his  book. 

Even  the  Avords  "  cowardly  "  and  "  mean-spirited,'* 
uttered  near  him,  disturbed  him  only  long  enough  to 
look  up  with  a  contemptuous  and  impatient  smile,  and 
he  was  instantly  at  his  book  again,  only  begging  Tarle- 
ton  to  go  off. 

Of  course,  boys  began  to  gather,  for  they  could  not 
have  the  stairway  to  themselves ;  and  things  went 
pretty  fast,  and  a  great  many  words  were  said  in  a 
short  time,  as  usual  in  such  cases. 

There  were  alert  and  wary  bystanders,  as  usual. 
"  Look  out ! "  said  one  of  these,  "  you'll  have  old  Cor- 
nell after  you ! " 

"  No,"  said  another,  of  the  same  sort,  "  he  isn't  in : 
go  ahead ! " 

So  Tarleton  went  on  to  say  that  he  wanted  satisfac- 
tion from  Brade,  or  Remsen,  or  Peters,  —  he  did  not 
care  which ;  he  was  not  going  to  be  called  thief  for 
nothing.  And  when  Brade  told  him  that  they  had 
not  called  his  party  thieves,  it  would  have  been  just  as 
good  to  speak  to  a  bull  or  a  bull-dog.  He  then  insisted 
that  they  should  say  that  they  were  a  pack  of  liars, 
and  so  on,  in  the  usual  way  of  blusterers.  "  He  did  not 
care  which  it  was,  —  some  of  them  must  give  him  satis- 
faction." 

"Remsen  and  I  are  the  only  ones,"  said  Brade: 
"  Peters  isn't  a  strong  fellow." 

"  Then  come  on,"  said  Tarleton,  "  let's  have  a  fair 
fight!" 


FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISEBS.     201 

"No,"  said  Antony,  "  I've  got  a  particular  reason." 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Tarleton,  with  tlie  most  emphatic 
contempt.   "  Cowards  always  have." 

"But  I  ^aue,"  said  Brade,  notwithstanding  the 
cowardly  sound  of  the  words. 

"Royal  Highness  is  afraid,  and  Remsen  daresn't,  and 
Peters  is  only  just  strong  enough  to  take  a  licking," 
said  Tarleton,  in  a  triumphant  tone. 

"  There's  the  bell ! "  said  some  one ;  but,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hush,  it  proved  a  false  alarm. 

"  Leave  out  Peters,"  said  Brade,  "  and  you  may  come 
at  me." 

Now  the  bell  struck,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  boy 
came  down  the  upper  stairs,  to  the  first  landing,  at  one 
jump,  while  there  was  a  general  stir  of  the  whole  group 
among  whom  he  came  so  suddenly,  and  with  such  risk 
to  their  limbs, 

"  Clear  the  way  here,  fellows !  What's  up  now  ?  " 
said  Phil  Lamson,  who  had  in  this  way  so  abruptly 
come  down  to  them  ;  and  after  shoving  the  belligerent 
Tarleton,  and  one  or  two  others,  up  into  a  corner,  he 
seized  Brade  by  the  shoulders,  and,  by  his  own  weight 
and  the  force  with  which  he  was  going,  made  him  run 
before  him  to  the  school-room  door. 

At  the  door  Brade  escaped  from  him,  and,  turning 
back,  met  the  little  crowd  of  boys  from  the  stairs,  and 
called  to  Tarleton,  "  Remember !  I  said  I  would." 

If  a  fight  Avith  fists  be  not  quite  so  fearful  a  thing 
to  look  forward  to  as  the  standing  up  to  kill  and  be 
killed  with  pistols  or  small  swords,  there  is  enough 
about  the  looking  forward  to  make  the  blood  run 
faster,  and  to  lay  strong  hold  of  the  thoughts  of  a 
9* 


202  ANTONY  BRADE. 

boy  with  good  feelings.     So  it  must  have  been  with 
Brade. 

The  bell  was  still  ringing,  when  Remsen  made  his 
appearance,  and  Brade  joined  him,  and  went  a  little 
aside  with  him,  but  keeping  slowly  on,  toward  the 
school-room  door. 

"  Perhaps  two  of  'em  together  will  be  able  to  do 
something!"  said  Tarleton,  sneering,  as  he  went  in. 

"  I've  promised  to  fight  Tarleton,  and  I  couldn't  help 
it.  I  wish  I  could  have  kept  out  of  it,  but  I  couldn't," 
said  Brade  to  his  friend. 

"  Why,  he  can't  whip  you,  I  don't  believe,  Anty," 
Baid  Remsen. 

"  But  I  wanted  to  be  confirmed,"  said  Antony. 

"  Oh,  well !  I  don't  believe  a  fight'll  stop  you,  if  you 
don't  kill  anybody,  or  gouge  his  eye  out,  or  something. 
If  I  had  to  fight," I'd  fight." 

"  I  used  to,"  said  Antony ;  "  but  I  wanted  to  leave 
off." 

The  bell  was  silent,  as  he  spoke ;  and  every  one  hur- 
ried into  the  school-room,  and  to  his  seat,  for  the  half- 
hour  after  dinner. 

The  Rector  of  the  School,  or  "  Caput,"  as  the  boys 
more  often  called  him,  coming  in,  as  the  bell  stopped, 
to  read  out  the  inflictions,  was  generally  observed  of 
almost  all  the  young  eyes,  and  was  thought  by  the 
boys  to  represent  dignity  and  scholarshij)  and  author- 
ity very  well ;  for  though  he  was,  if  any  thing,  rather 
short,  yet  he  had  thick,  curling  black  hair,  and  a  clear 
eye  and  ruddy  cheek,  and  a  good  strong  voice. 

When  the  lines  were  read  out  for  that  day,  as 
everybody  had  been  predicting,  in  the  school-phrase, 
that  "  Towne  would  have  to  catch  it "  for  breakiuer 


FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     203 

"  bounds,"  he  sat  up  straight,  like  a  man  of  mark,  before 
his  name  was  reached,  and  exchanged  side-giances 
with  Wilkins  and  Will  Hirsett,  who  was  always  at 
any  one's  beck  in  the  school-room.  Brade's  five  lines 
for  tardiness  that  morning,  being  his  first,  were  re- 
mitted, as  usual  in  such  a  case. 

Ten  lines  were  read  for  Gaston,  for  disorder  in  going 
to  breakfost ;  and  at  this  Towne  nodded  his  head,  em- 
phatically, to  one  side,  with  a  smile  of  much  content, 
as  if  clinching  that  infliction  for  the  trick  played  upon 
him  about  the  Latin  for  rabbit.  Gaston,  before  he  be- 
thought himself,  made  a  half  motion  as  if  to  rise  and 
protest  on  the  spot,  and  sat  looking  indignant.  Pres- 
ently, however,  a  happy  thought  seemed  to  strike  him, 
and  he  set  himself  to  writing  very  fast. 

And  so  the  list  went  on  :  disorder,  tardiness,  noise  in 
dormitory,  misbehavior  at  table,  received  their  awards. 
Remsen  had  his  five  lines  for  tardiness.  Tarletoa 
came  off  clear,  this  time.  Towne  got  double  for  break- 
ing bounds,  and,  with  all  his  accumulation  of  lines 
before,  was  in  so  bad  a  plight  that  he  now  looked  quite 
chop-fillen.  Among  his  other  companions  in  misery 
was  Wilkins,  as  usual ;  and  Wilkins's  look  was  one 
combined  of  surprise  and  resignation. 

Brade's  hand  went  up,  but  was  instantly  dropj^ed 
again:  he  looked  uncertain. 

Gaston's  hand  was  instantly  up,  after  the  reading-out 
of  the  lines,  and  stayed  up ;  and  by  this  time  he  had  a 
smile  of  inward  satisfaction  on  his  face.  His  name  was 
called,  and  he  stood  up  with  a  small  paper  in  his  hand, 
and  asked  leave  to  read  a  plea  for  a  mitigation  of  sen- 
tence. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  Rector. 


204  '  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  '  My  offence,  as  I  understand  it,  sir,' "  said  Gaston, 
reading,  " '  was  giving  one  of  the  boys  the  word  pedi- 
culus,  which  means  lou — '"  ("No  matter  what  it 
means,"  said  the  Rector,  "  or  say '  small  beast  of  prey.' ") 
" '  for  cunicidus,  which  means  rabbit.  Now,  with  the 
boys,  a  rabbit  and  a  hare  are  the  same  thing ;  so, 
in  taking  the  word  pediculus  (lous —  small  prey  — ) 
for  hair,  I  have  only  used  that  figure  of  speech  called 
Synecdoche,  which  is  'the  taking  of  a  part  for  the 
whole.'  Most  respectfully  submitted.  Edward  Gas- 
ton.' " 

The  Tutor,  who  had  doubtless  heard  the  story  of 
the  morning,  began  to  turn  over  leaves,  and  to  try  to 
smooth  his  face,  so  that  the  School  began  to  smile. 
When  Gaston,  being  perfectly  self-possessed  and  full 
of  fun,  stopped,  very  meaningly,  at  the  word  "  AaiV,"  and 
then  at  "  Synecdoche,"  little  Meadows  began  to  titter ; 
Thompson  Walters,  a  big  boy,  to  giggle ;  Hirsett  (from 
sympathy,  of  course),  to  snicker ;  Brade,  however  un- 
pleasant his  deeper  thoughts  might  be,  could  not  help 
smiling ;  Blake  went  down  upon  his  desk  in  a  sort  of 
convulsion.  The  Tutor  gave  way  moderately,  as  Gas- 
ton finished  ;  little  Meadows,  Walters,  Hirsett,  Wilkins, 
Blake,  indiscriminately  gave  way,  and  the  whole  School 
presently  was  in  a  roar,  except  Towne,  who  looked 
indignant. 

The  Rector  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  Tutor, 
and  then  announced  that  although  Gaston  had  mistaken 
a  little  the  ground  of  his  infliction,  yet,  considering  the 
ingenuity  of  his  plea,  the  same  figure  of  speech  should 
be  applied  to  the  penalty,  —  a  part  for  the  whole,  — 
leaving  him  two  lii^ps  instead  of  ten.  At  this  a  great 
many  congratulatory  eyes  sought  Gaston's,  who  hand- 


FIGHTING  TEAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISEBS.     205 

somely  acknowledged  the  indulgence,  and  sat  down 
very  radiant  with  his  success. 

At  this  point,  Brade  had  apparently  made  up  hi8 
mind  and  held  up  his  hand  resolutely  ;  his  request  he 
brought  up  to  the  ear  of  the  Rector ;  and  it  was  that, 
as  Remsen  had  to  work  out  lines  for  tardiness,  his  own 
might  not  be  remitted.     This  was  kindly  refused. 

Tarleton,  whose  ears  were  open  to  what  was  pass- 
ing, fashioned,  out  of  white  paper,  something  which, 
from  its  shape  and  size,  might  be  taken  to  be  a  paper- 
knife,  or  possibly  a  white  feather,  and  this  he  set,  for 
a  moment,  against  his  head.  It  must  have  been  rec- 
ognized in  the  school  as  a  conventional  symbol  of 
something ;  for  Hirsett  grinned,  and  Wilkins,  as  well  as 
others,  looked  intelligently  at  it  during  the  moment 
that  it  was  displayed. 

After  denying  Brade's  request,  the  Rector,  by  way 
of  compensation,  perhaps,  gave  him  an  outlined  map 
of  Cisalpine  Gaul  to  make,  while  Remsen  was  working 
out  his  lines.  This  the  boy  did  not  accept  so  cheer- 
fully as  might  have  been  expected,  and,  turning  a  little 
slowly  away,  was  just  in  time  to  see,  as  he  doubtless 
did,  Tarleton's  contemptuous  look,  and  the  knowing 
smiles  of  some  others.     He  blushed  most  deeply. 

The  afternoon  half-hour  went  by :  the  free  boys  were 
dismissed,  and  the  others  set  about  their  expiatory 
tasks.     Brade  put  himself  strongly  to  his  map  of  Gaul. 

Remsen  had  the  once  honored  but  now  discredited 
old  watch  on  his  desk,  where  many  laughed  at  it ;  some 
of  whom,  perhaps,  had  wondered,  heretofore. 

Meantime,  while,  in  the  somewhat  restless  hush  and 
awe  of  the  school-room,  after  school,  as  in  the  silent 
Lower   Places    of  the    old    Mythology,    tasks    were 


200  ANTONY   DRADE. 

worked  out,  and  fretful  shades  sought  leave,  again  and 
again,  of  the  grim  Ferryman  (here  it  was  Tutor  Cor- 
nell) to  cross  the  boundary-stream,  great  things  were 
doing,  out  of  doors. 

As  soon  as  school  had  been  let  out,  Tarleton  had  begun 
to  grumble  near  the  door,  because  he  and  his  partners 
had  been  accused  of  stealing  another  fellow's  rabbit. 
Remsen  and  Brade,  as  we  have  seen,  were  both  in  the 
school-room;  and,  of  that  party  of  trappers,  the  only 
free  member  was  the  slight  and  unpractical  Alonzo 
Peters.  This  day  he  was  a  little  late  in  making  his 
appearance,  being  among  the  last  boys  to  come  out ; 
and  there  already  was  Tarleton,  in  a  group  of  two  or 
three  who  had  no  play  or  business  more  urgent  than 
to  stop  and  listen  to  him  proclaiming  his  indignation. 
Tarleton  was  a  heavy  fellow  for  his  size,  and  not  pleas- 
ant-looking ;  and  the  expression  and  ways  of  dog  or 
cat,  or  man,  or  other  beast,  provoking  fight,  do  not  make 
him  look  better. 

Peters  came  on,  with  his  head  in  the  air,  sauntering 
and  abstracted,  and  was  passing  by  Tarleton  and  his 
surrounders,  without  seeing  any  thing  strange  in  them, 
although  the  by-standers  opened  out  to  each  side,  with 
their  eyes  fastened  very  meaningly  on  the  unsuspecting 
Peters. 

"  They'll  have  to  give  us  satisfaction,"  Tarleton  was 
saying.  "  We  ain't  to  lose  our  trapping-ground,  and 
then  be  called  a  thief  for  nothing." 

Saying  this,  he  walked  away  to  one  of  the  heaps  of 
autumn-leaves  swept  up  to  be  carried  away,  and  kicked 
it  asunder. 

"  Here's  Peters  !  "  said  one  of  the  by-standers.  "  He's 
one  of  'em,  but  you  don't  want "  — 


/ 

FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BBUISERS.     207 

"  Peters  ain't  any  thing  !  "  said  Tarleton,  contemptu- 
ously. "  He  wouldn't  dare  to  say  his  hat  was  his  own ;" 
and  he  looked  at  him  with  scorn. 

This  free  use  of  his  name  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  abstracted  boy,  and  he  stopped.  "  Why  ain't  I  any 
thing,  Tarleton  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  tone  very  far  from 
warlike,  —  indeed,  in  a  deprecating  and  aggrieved 
voice. 

"  You're  no  fellow  to  stand  up  for  yourself:  if  a  toad 
jiimped  up  at  you,  you'd  go  over,"  said  Tarleton  to  the 
admirer  of  the  institution  of  chivalry. 

"Well,  I  don't  like  toads,"  said  Peters,  taking  this 
for  a  serious  accusation,  whether  it  had  been  so  in- 
tended or  not,  and  half  confessing,  while  excusing  it. 
While  he  spoke,  he  resorted  to  the  same  pile  of  leaves, 
and  spread  them  asunder  with  his  foot. 

"  Oh,  well !  I  mean  you're  a  coward.  There's  no 
use  talking  to  yon,"  said  Tarleton. 

"  No,  I  ain't  a  coward,"  said  Peters,  holding  himself 
up  as  awkwardly  and  absurdly  as  a  dromedary  or  a 
giraffe.     The  boys,  who  were  looking  on,  laughed. 

"  I  don't  believe  you'd  strike  a  baby  back,"  said 
Tarleton, 

"No,  that's  just  what  I  wouldn't  do,"  said  Peters. 
He  was  looking  very  pale,  poor  fellow  !  and  yet  it's 
only  for  his  sake,  and  certainly  not  for  Tarleton's  sake, 
or  for  our  own  pleasure,  that  we  write  tliis  part  of  our 
story.  "  And  I  don't  approve  of  bringing  j)eople  all 
up,  because  one  says  another's  wrong :  it  isn't  the  right 
way.  But  who's  done  any  thing  to  you,  I  should  like 
to  know  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  called  thief,  just  at  this  present 
moment,"  said  Tarleton,  walking  up  to  him,  with  his 


208  ANTONY  BRADE. 

two  fists  down  at  his  sides,  like  fighters  in  drawings, 
and  very  likely  in  real  life. 

"  I  didn't  call  you  a  thief,"  said  Peters,  drawing  back- 
ward. 

It  must  be  said,  for  the  witnesses  of  the  scene,  that 
tliey  did  nothing  to  help  on  a  fight,  or,  as  it  would  most 
likely  prove,  a  flogging  for  poor  Peters. 

"  A  pretty  fellow  you  are,  to  be  talking  about  knights, 
when  they  were  fighting  all  the  time,  and  you  daresn't 
strike  your  shadow ! "  said  Tarleton,  as  scornfully  as 
Goliath  of  Gath. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  swollen  up,  and  all  black  and 
blue,"  answered  Peters.  "  What  good  does  that  do  ? 
You  know  very  well  it'll  all  be  settled  right ;  and  no- 
body's hurting  you  at  all." 

.  "  That's  the  way  you  like  it !"  said  Tarleton.  «  You'd 
better  go,  and  send  somebody  else.  Brade's  showing  a 
pretty  big  white  feather :  a  little  piece  of  it'll  do  for 
you." 

"  I  ain't  a  bit  more  afraid'n  anybody  else,  and  every- 
body knows  Brade  isn't  a  coward,"  said  the  pale,  awk- 
ward fellow :  "  but  I  don't  see  what  good  fighting'U 
do." 

"  Some  of  you  have  got  to  take  back  about  our  being 
thieves,  or  else  you'll  all  have  to  stand  up  to  it.  You'd 
better  leave  it  to  somebody  else,  that  ain't  a  coward," 
said  Tarleton. 

"  Oh, no!"  said  Peters, as  pale  as  possible,  and  with  a 
dampness  on  his  forehead  :  "  if  anybody's  got  to  do  it, 
I  may  as  well  as  anybody.  Pd  rather  do  it  than  get 
out  of  the  way,  and  leave  it  for  anybody,  as  if  I  was  a 
coward."  The  boy,  judged  by  his  looks  and  voice, 
seemed  not  very  far  from  tears ;  but  his  speech  was  as 


FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     209 

stout  as  if  he  were  master  of  all  arts  of  attack  and 
defence,  and  ready  to  use  them  the  next  moment. 

"  Well,  what  you've  got  to  do  is  just  to  say  you 
know  we  didn't  steal  your  rabbit,  and  you  fellows  lied;" 
said  Tarleton,  laying  down  pretty  hard  terms. 

This,  of  course,  Peters,  though  pale  as  a  sheet,  re- 
fused. Judged  by  the  sight,  Alonzo  Peters  might  have 
been  thought  a  flimsy  fellow ;  and  here  he  was,  a  sort 
of  champion  for  two  others. 

"  Well,  come  on  then ! "  said  Tarleton,  setting  oflE*  up 
the  hill. 

Peters  went  silently  along;  and  the  boys,  who  had 
already  given  their  time  to  listen  to  the  preliminary 
discussion  in  words,  showed  great  alacrity  in  giving 
more  of  it  to  the  final  discussion  now  proposed  with  fists. 

"  Old  Wilson  will  find  you  out,  and  you'll  have  '  The 
Cap '  down  on  you,"  said  one  of  these  attendants,  con- 
solingly, while  he  walked. 

The  two  principals  (if  our  flimsily-made  and  almost 
feeble-looking  friend,  Alonzo  Peters,  could  be  called  a 
principal)  went  on  in  silence,  Peters  a  little  behind, 
but  now  and  then,  with  his  quick,  uneven  steps,  getting 
on  close  to  Tarleton,  and  then  falling  back.  Neither 
Brade  nor  Remsen  appeared,  and  Peters  must  meet 
the  occasion. 

The  accompanying  boys,  leaving  the  two  others  to 
keep  silence,  if  they  would,  talked  pretty  freely. 

"  'Tain't  fair,  anyhow,  Wadham,"  said  one,  whom  the 
reader  will  recognize  by  his  mouth  and  ears  as  Hirsett. 
"  Tarleton's  twice  as  big  as  Peters  any  day,"  —  a  state- 
ment not  literally  true,  if  one  judged  by  the  eye,  for 
Peters  was  the  taller,  though  the  other  might  a  good 
deal  outweigh  him. 


210  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"But  didn't  old  Pete  stick  up  for  himself?  I  tell 
you !  "  said  Wadham,  in  a  sentence  of  mixed  construc- 
tion.    "  Who'd  ever  ha'  thought  it  was  in  him  ?  " 

Certainly  the  ungainly  and  almost  shambling  ad- 
mii'er  of  knights  and  their  doings  seemed  a  very  poor 
matcli  for  the  closely-knit,  square-built  fellow,  who  was 
leading  the  way  to  a  convenient  field  of  battle.  More- 
over, while  they  were  speaking,  Peters  might  have  been 
heard  saying,  "  I  don't  see  what  good  there  is  in  bang- 
ing and  beating ! " 

There  was  a  large  oak  standing  not  far  behind  the 
gymnasium,  spreading  over  a  broad  stretch  of  what  in 
summer  was  greensward,  and  was  now  brown  sod,  —  a 
favorite  lounging-place  for  the  boys  during  all  the  time 
of  out-door  games.  Under  this  stalwart  tree  was  room 
enough  for  all  the  clothing  stripped  off  for  base-ball ; 
and  in  any  bright  day  of  colder  weather,  when  the 
ground  at  its  foot  was  fit,  it  has  been  still  a  favorite 
resort  for  its  summer  friends,  because  it  haughtily  holds 
fast  its  strong  leaves  against  the  fury  of  all  winter 
winds,  both  damp  and  dry,  and  looks  like  a  great 
shelter,  when  of  its  weaker  neighbors  Dante's  simple 
stoi'y  has  come  true, — 

"  Come  d'autunno  si  levan  le  foglie, 
L'una  appresso  dell'  altra,  infin  che  il  ramo 
Eende  alia  terra  tutte  le  sue  spoglie."  * 

Most  boys  care  little  for  natural  objects,  which  only 
Btand  still,  and  can  do  nothing  for  them.  This  tree 
was  nearer  tban  common  trees  to  the  Bartholomeans. 

*  As  by  the  autumn  winds  the  leaves  are  lifted, 
One  after  other,  from  the  struggling  bough, 
Till  to  the  earth  all  its  green  sjioils  are  drifted. 

Inferno,  Canto  iiL 


FWHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     211 

*'  Old  Quercus  "  the  boys  affectionately  called  it,  out  of 
their  books ;  and,  of  course,  soon,  if  not  from  the  out- 
set, gave  to  its  surname  a  twist  into  English  pronunci- 
ation, which  made  two  short  words  of  it,  and  which  led 
Jake  Moody  to  say  that  "  he'd  heard  himself  called  a 
'queer  cuss  '  a  hundred  times;  but  he  didn't  know  what 
these  boys  wanted  to  go  and  call  that  tree  so  for." 
Near  this  fine  old  forest  tree  was  a  little  group  of  three 
or  four  evergreens,  and  straight  on  toward  this  Tarle- 
ton  strode,  without  stopping  and  without  further  speech. 
lie  threw  off,  hastily,  his  jacket  under  the  tree,  as  he 
j)assed,  and  went  straight  on,  till  he  got  the  little  clump 
of  evergreens  between  him  and  the  West  Road,  from 
which,  though  at  a  little  distance,  there  was  nothing 
else  to  hide  him. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  if  the  fellow's  got  the  heart  of 
a  mouse  as  big  as  your  thumb,  let  him  show  it !  I'm 
ready  for  him." 

Peters  was  not  yet  ready;  for  he  fumbled  at  the  but- 
tons of  his  jacket,  and  tried,  more  than  once,  to  get  it 
off  b.eforo  it  was  unbuttoned. 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  have  got  one,"  he  answered  to  his 
adversary's  challenge  ;  "  but  I  guess  I've  got  the  heart 
of  a  boy,  as  I  ought  to  have." 

I  tell  you  what,"  said  Wadham,  "  that  chap's  got 
grit  in  him  !  — Don't  get  flurried,  Peters  !  Let  me  help 
you ; "  and  he  began  to  unbutton  Peters's  jacket  for 
liim,  as  the  boy's  own  fingers  found  it  hard  to  do. 

''  I  don't  want  to  fight  a  bit,"  said  this  self-offering 
champion  ;  "  and  I  don't  see  any  good  in  it:  but  I  ain't 
a  coward,  —  he'll  find  that  out.  I  won't  run  away,  and 
let  others  take  it ; "  and  he  half  sobbed  as  he  spoke, 
while  Tarleton  seemed  as  steady  as  the  old  tree  itself. 


212  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  Now,"  said  Peters,  moving  up,  as  soon  as  he  was 
rid  of  his  coat,  to  the  other,  who  was  waiting  for  him, 
"  what  do  you  want  to  fight  for  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  don't,"  said  Tarleton,  in  answer  to  this  last 
appeal,  "  I  only  just  want  to  box  a  baby's  ears  ; "  and 
he  gave  Peters  a  very  solid  slap  on  the  side  of  the  head 
as  he  spoke. 

Peters  staggered,  but  came  back  again,  facing  his 
antagonist.  "  Don't  do  that  again ! "  he  said ;  but 
without  making  any  assault,  or  even  putting  himself 
in  a  posture  of  defence. 

Meantime,  neither  Brade  nor  Remsen  nor  any  one 
else  came  near. 

"  No,  I  won't  do  that  again,"  said  the  self-possessed 
Tarleton.  "  I'll  try  this ; "  and  he  struck  him  on  the  other 
side  of  the  head  a  heavy  blow,  which  sent  the  victim 
staggering  in  the  other  direction. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  do  that ! "  sobbed  Peters,  recover- 
ing himself,  and  coming  back  face  to  face  with  the 
fighter.  Then,  suddenly  straightening  himself  and 
throwing  back  his  head,  he  followed  his  instinct, 
rushed  forward,  and,  instead  of  striking  loose,  wild 
blows,  flung  his  long  arms  round  the  other  boy,  who 
was  acting  without  the  least  caution  and  was  not  at  all 
prepared  for  any  such  movement.  Immediately,  the 
long  arms  being  locked  behind  Tarleton's  back,  held 
him,  like  the  hug  of  a  cuttle-fish,  just  above  the  elbow, 
so  that  he  could  not  lift  a  hand. 

Tarleton,  thus  unexpectedly  seized,  made  a  sudden 
and  violent  efibrt  to  break  out  of  it,  but,  tripping  back- 
wards as  he  did  so,  fell  to  the  ground,  with  Peters  on 
top  of  him.     The  on-lookers  ran  up. 

"  Don't  touch  'em !  "  cried  Wadham,  —  an  injunction 


FIOHTINO  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     213 

which  neither  of  the  others  seemed  inclined  to  violate. 
"Old  Peters  will  take  care  of  himself." 

On  the  ground  the  fighter  struggled  fiercely ;  but 
the  long  arms  held  him  fast.  "  Keep  still,  now,  —  you'd 
better !  "  said  Peters. 

"  This  ain't  fighting ! "  cried  Tarleton,  from  below. 

"  Why  ain't  it  ?  It's  my  way  of  fighting,"  answered 
Peters,  whose  hands  and  arms,  between  the  ground  and 
the  other's  body,  must  have  been  hurt  in  the  struggle. 
"  You  fought  your  way,  and  I  fought  ray  way.  I  showed 
you  I  wasn't  afraid." 

"  You  daresn't  face  me ! "  said  Tarleton.  "  Let  me  up ! " 

Alonzo  Peters,  howevei',  seemed  to  know  what  he 
was  about,  and  answered  with  spirit, — 

"  No,  I  won't !  I  won't  let  go  till  my  arms  come  ofi". 
Pm  facing  you  now  ; "  and  he  set  his  teeth  together, 
and  held  on  with  new  strength.  The  other,  being  thus 
grappled,  grew  more  and  more  indignant  and  furious 
to  no  purpose  ;  and  it  may  be  supposed  that,  all  this 
time,  his  hair  was  tangling  with  dirt  and  grass  and 
chips,  and  his  neck  sharing  in  the  discomfort. 

"  You  shall  get  up  when  you  promise  to  let  us  alone," 
said  the  upper  one,  who,  if  he  could  only  keep  his  place 
and  keep  the  other  down,  was,  to  all  intents,  conqueror, 
and  could  dictate  his  own  terms. 

Of  the  three  partners,  it  was  Peters  who  was  cham- 
pion. 

Whether  Tarleton's  writhings  might  not,  by  and  by, 
have  changed  the  condition  of  things,  and  brought  him 
to  the  top,  is  a  question  ;  but  just  now  there  seemed 
little  chance  of  this,  for  Peters,  with  his  teeth  set,  was 
exerting  more  will  than  strength  of  muscle,  so  long  as 
he  could  keep  his  wits  about  him.     So  far,  although  the 


214  ANTONY  BRADE. 

two  had  worked  themselves  about  on  llie  ground  a  good 
deal,  and  had  ruffled  the  grass  and  disordered  llieu-  own 
clothing,  it  seemed  to  have  been  done  chiefly  at  T;irle- 
ton's  cost ;  and,  so  closely  had  his  grappler  clung  to 
him,  that  he  was  still  bound  as  £ast  as  ever,  and  was 
slill  as  fl.it  on  the  ground. 

At  this  moment  one  of  the  by-standers  raised  the  cry, 
"  There's  the  Cap ! "  and  all  but  the  two  combatants 
scattered  hastily. 

"  Let  me  up,  you  coward  !  "  cried  Tarleton.  "  You 
want  me  to  be  caught,"  —  speaking  of  himself  as  if  he 
were  the  only  one  concerned,  as,  in  his  own  eyes,  per- 
haps, he  was. 

Peters  saw  things  differently. 

"I  shall  be  caught  myself,  shan't  I?"  he  said. 
"You  take  that  back,  and  promise  not  to  insult  us, 
nor  meddle  with  us,  and  I'll  do  it." 

Many  an  abusive  and  many  a  sulky  answer  came 
from  Tarleton  first,  and  one  promise  ending  in  "  but — " 
At  length,  as  solid  steps  were  heard  approaching,  the 
promise  was  given  as  the  conquering  Peters  dictated 
it,  and  with  no  reservation.  Now  Peters  relaxed  his 
hold,  and  the  two  got  up. 

"Pm  your  witness,  Peters,"  said  a  strong,  young 
voice ;  and  Russell,  the  monitor,  appeared,  ruddy  and 
tall  and  muscular. 

"  The  Caput  sent  me  up,"  he  said.  "  He  saw  you  two 
fellows." 

Russell  then  quietly  helped  the  two  to  I'ight  them- 
selves, rid.ling  Tarleton's  hair  of  some  of  its  gatherings 
from  the  ground,  and  smoothing  Peters.  Beginnings 
of  angry  words  he  cut  off  short. 

The  conflict  was  over;  and  the  chief  bodily  harm 


FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     215 

had  been  done  to  Peters,  both  of  whose  cheeks  were 
swollen,  and  whose  hands  were  a  good  deal  scratched. 

Meanwliile  the  late  on-lookers,  scattered  just  as  the 
contest  was  very  near  its  end,  must  liave  spread  abroad 
their  rej)orts  of  it  as  tliey  fled ;  for  now,  finding  tJKit 
only  Russell,  a  monitor,  and  not  the  Rector,  had  gone 
to  the  scene  of  the  battle,  a  good  many  boys  —  some  at 
full  speed  —  were  making  the  best  of  their  way  to  the 
spot. 

Will  Hirsett  and  Dover,  with  others,  were  walking 
over  the  scene  of  the  encounter.  Xot  yet  were  Towne 
and  Wilkins,  free  from  their  imprisonment  in  the  school- 
room, to  be  found  in  this  gathering,  in  which  they  had 
a  nearer  interest  than  most  others ;  nor  were  Remsen 
and  Brade  to  be  seen.  Will  Hirsett  and  Dover  were 
scrutinizing  the  ground. 

"  Here's  where  old  Tarleton  tipped  right  over  back- 
wards," said  Hirsett,  beginning  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
place  and  share  his  better  knowledge  with  the  less  for- 
tunate ;  "  and,  1  tell  you,  if  old  Peters  didn't  hang  on  to 
him!"  he  continued,  in  that  style  of  mixed  construction 
in  which  boys  surpass  all  their  examples  in  the  classics. 
"Look  how  they  scraj)ed  the  grass  up!  didn't  they?" 

"What  was  it  about?"  asked  Meadows,  who  brought 
to  the  field  the  curiosity  which  animated  Old  Caspar's 
little  grandchild  Wilhehnine  about  the  great  Battle  of 
Blenheim. 

"  Why,  you  know,"  said  the  young  historian  of  Quer- 
cus-fight,  "Remsen  and  Brade  and  old  Peters  said  they 
lost  their  rabbit,  and  Tarleton  wanted  to  fight  somebody 
for  calling  him  a  thief;  and  so  Peters  wouldn't  back 
out,  and  he  took  it  for  all  three  of  'em;  an'  he  got  old 
Tarleton  down"  — 


216  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Which  beat  ?  "  "  Which  beat  ?  "  asked  several  eager 
voices.  "  Yes,  which  beat  ?  "  repeated  Meadows,  smooth- 
ing over  with  his  foot  some  of  the  ruffled  grass,  and 
having  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  two  combatants,  while  he 
spoke  to  Hirsett.     "  Did  Peters  give  in  ?  " 

"  No !  I  didn't,"  answered  the  undaunted  champion 
for  himself;  "  ask  Russell." 

"  He  was  on  top  when  I  came,"  answered  Russell, 
giving  the  fact  in  the  foi'm  least  ofiensive  to  the  other 
party. 

"  Oh,  well !  it  wasn't  a  fair  fight :  I  tripped  up,"  said 
Tarleton. 

"  Peters  got  the  best  of  it,  that  time,"  said  Russell ; 
and  Peters's  queer  eyes  proudly  sought  the  recognition 
of  the  cluster  of  boys  who  surrounded  them. 

"It  was  only  chance  that  I  went  down.  I  could 
flog  him,  any  day :  he  daresn't  try  it  over  again,"  said 
the  warlike  and  unsatisfied  Tarleton. 

"  I  never  wanted  to  fight,"  said  Peters,  as  honestly 
as  before ;  "but  I  wa'n't  afraid  of  bein-g  whipped, — you 
found  that  out.   I  didn't  wait  for  Remsen  and  Brade." 

"  Hooray  for  old  Peters  ! "  cried  Wadham.  "  The 
prince  of  fire-eaters,"  added  Meadows,  who,  as  the  reader 
already  knows,  had  a  studious  and  literary  turn,  and 
had  doubtless  read  The  Poets.  Then  the  mixed  multi- 
tude (half  a  dozen  or  so  of  the  younger-form-boys) 
took  up  the  completed  couplet,  in  chorus,  half-laugh- 
ing:— 

"  Hooray  for  old  Peters, 
The  prince  of  fire-eaters ! " 

And  the  whole  company  began  to  follow  from  the  field 
the  two  late  combatants,  who  were  walking  away,  each 
by  himself,  but  both  keeping  in  company  with  Russell. 


FIGHTING  THAT  WILL  DISGUST  BRUISERS.     217 

As  the  unwelcome  song  of  triumph  rose  from  the 
boys  behind,  and  urged  its  quick  waves  of  sound  into 
the  ears  of  the  one  whom  it  did  not  honor,  he  took  it 
hardly,  and  repeated  his  indirect  challenge  to  a  renewal 
of  the  fight.     This  time  the  Monitor  took  it  up. 

"  Look  here,  Tarleton ! "  he  said  :  "  we've  had  enough 
of  fighting.  It  isn't  the  way  of  this  School :  it  isn't 
Christian.  If  a  fellow's  got  any  wrong,  it's  easy  to  get 
it  made  right  without  going  to  fisticuifs  about  it.  Every 
fellow,  except  you,  has  agreed  to  leave  that  about  the 
hare  or  rabbit  to  two,  to  find  out  all  about  it,  and 
we've  been  down  already  seeing  to  it.  What's  anybody 
going  to  find  out,  any  way,  by  fighting  about  a  thing  ?  " 
he  concluded. 

Tarleton,  without  answering,  turned  as  if  he  had  for- 
gotten something,  and  went  back. 


10 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHAT   HAPPENED    TO    REMSEN'S    WATCH,  AND 
TABLETON'S  EXPERIENCE. 

If  the  looking  forward  to  a  battle  brings  with  it  a 
crowding  of  the  brain  and  a  clanging  in  the  breast, 
what  a  change  does  victory  (especially  one  almost 
harmless  to  both  parties)  bring  !  What  a  playing  about 
the  casing  of  the  heart  by  the  late  stormy  and  turbid 
tide  of  blood!  What  a  happy  tingling,  all  over  the 
body,  by  things  hurrying  to  get  back  into  their  old 
ways ! 

The  triumphant  throng  is  half-way  down  the  slope 
toward  the  house. 

Here  Peters,  the  awkward  hero  of  the  day,  suddenly 
started  forward ;  for,  as  tliey  were  coming  down,  tliey 
saw  in  front  of  them  the  storm-house-door  ojien,  and 
Remsen  and  Brade  sallying  forth.  Ha^■ing  hurried  a 
little  way  forward  toward  them,  Peters  then  seemed  to 
falter  in  his  purpose,  and  stopped. 

Remsen  was  swinging,  with  one  hand,  by  its  long 
chain,  what  any  eye,  almost,  in  the  School  could  recog- 
nize atiar,  the  famous  time-piece  of  his  forefathers,  and 
a])parently  threatening  to  let  it  go ;  but  the  attention 
of  both  Remsen  and  his  companion  was  soon  drawn  to 
the  unusual  appearance  of  the  little  throng  wliich  was 
approaching  them.     The  newly  made  triumphal  song 


REMSEN'S  WATCH,  ETC.  219 

was  raised  with  much  vigor  by  tlie  accompanying  choi'^ 
isters  as  the  two  i^arties  approached  each  other. 

While  Brade  and  Remsen  questioned,  Alonzo  Peters, 
like  a  modest  hero,  had  withdrawn  a  little,  as  if  con- 
scious of  having  deserved  well  of  them  and  of  the 
community.  The  story  was  told  with  a  little  plain  web 
from  Russell,  and  little  varied  and  fanciful  bits  of  warp 
from  members  of  the  chorus.  The  story,  of  course,  cul- 
minated m  the  unexpected  but  entire  success  of  Peters. 

"  How  did  he  get  into  it  ?"  asked  Remsen,  looking  at 
Peters  in  the  new  character  of  a  hero  in  single  combat, 
but  taking  things  in  a  business-like  way. 

Wadham  and  Hirsett  both  undertook  to  answer,  as 
having  had  a  largo  share  in  the  encounter  by  looking 
on  at  it. 

"  That  trapping  business ; "  said  one.  "  He  said  you 
three  were  liars ; "  added  the  other,  leaving  the  subject 
of  his  sentence  a  little  hard  to  define.  "He  wanted 
Peters  to  confess  you  were  liars." 

"  What  a  fool  he  was,  not  to  wait  till  we  got  out ! 
He  might  have  got  an  awful  licking;"  said  Remsen,  as 
unsympathizingly  critical  as  if  Peters  were  a  thousand 
miles  off  in  space,  and  further  off  in  spirit. 

The  modest  and  withdrawing  hero  was  quick  to  hear 
this  disparaging  speech.  "I  showed  I  wasn't  a  coward," 
he  said:  "I  stood  uj)  for  everybody."  Having  said  so 
much,  he  began  to  w\alk  away  by  himself.  Russell 
looked  after  him,  and  said,  — 

"  He's  a  spunky  old  fellow,  though,  Remsen  ;  and  he 
did  it  for  you." 

"  He's  a  regular  old  brick ! "  said  Wadham,  not  so 
much  seeking  novelty  as  fitness  in  his  phrase.  "  If 
you'd  seen  him  walk  up!'.' 


220  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  speak  pretty  well  of  him, 
Remsen,"  said  Russell. 

"  Well,"  said  Remsen,  smiling  not  ill-naturedly,  and 
addi-essiug  the  younger  by-standers,  "  tell  him  I  think 
he's  as  brave  as  Archimedes  —  or  Achilles  —  and  Wil- 
liam Wallace,  and  Robert  Bruce." 

Meadows,  laughing  at  Remsen's  "  Archimedes,"  set 
off  to  give  the  message  with  much  alacrity,  as  if  he 
thought  that  Peters  would  enjoy  it  as  much  as  him- 
self. 

Now  that  every  thing  connected  with  the  late  battle 
had  been  done  with,  Russell  turned  to  Remsen,  who 
was  still  carrying  the  heirloom  swinging  by  its  chain, 
and  said  curiously,  "  Oh,  let's  see  the  old  watch  !"  and, 
as  Remsen  held  it  up,  Russell  remarked  upon  the  carv- 
ings and  lettering  of  its  face,  turning  the  long-time 
implement  round.  "  What  does  t^ayoQSvaaze  {exagor- 
eusate)  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  reading  the  very  word,  most 
likely,  which  Mr.  Don  had  carefully  copied. 

"  My -grandfather  told  me,"  said  Remsen,  "  it  was  out 
of  the  Bible,  and  meant  '  redeeming,'  or  something." 

"  Ho ! "  said  Will  Hirsett,  who,  though  young  in 
years,  was  already  a  little  advanced  in  his  acquaintance 
with  Language,  "twig  the  old  turnip!"  and  he,  too, 
stared  with  aU  his  eyes. 

, Others  came  up,  and  there  was  quite  a  gathering 
about  the  venerable  relic. 

"  Who  wants  to  buy  ?  "  asked  the  owner.  "  This  old 
thing  got  me  kept  in  to-day." 

Ho  did  not  add  what  very  likely  had  touched  him 
more  than  any  thing,  that  the  old  thing  had  become  a 
laughing-stock,  that  day. 

A  timid  voice  from  Meadows,  already  back  at  the 


REMSEN'S  WATCH,   ETC.  221 

outskirts,  asked  what  the  owner  would  take  for  it. 
Many  curious  eyes  gazed  iipon  the  small  mass  of  ma- 
chinei'y,  incased  in  glass  and  silver,  which  had  timed, 
most  likely,  many  a  meal,  and  possibly  some  lovers* 
meetings ;  had  been  held  to  the  delighted  ear  of  many 
a  toddler,  and  allowed  to  go  to  his  mouth  without  fear 
of  its  getting  into  his  throat. 

"  Ain't  it  a  buster  ? "  asked  Will  Plirsett,  keeping 
safely  outside  of  any  competition  or  curious  questioning 
about  its  market- worth,  —  perhaps  because  he  had  no 
money,  perhaps  because  he  had  no  faith  in  Remsen's 
intention  of  selling  his  heirloom. 

"Will  you  sell  it?"  asked  Meadows. 

"  No  !  "  said  Remseu.  "Here  goes!"  And,  in  spite  of 
several  outcries,  such  as  "I  wouldn't,"  from  Russell, 
and  "Oh,  don't!"  "Give  it  to  a  fellow!"  "Give  it  to 
me  ! "  from  younger  boys,  he  whirled  it  out  of  his  hand, 
and  it  struck  with  a  thud,  and  a  rattle  or  jingle,  on  the 
bank  near  the  gj'mnasium. 

"  Oh,  too  bad!  wasn't  it?"  said  Meadows  and  others; 
and  a  race  began  toward  the  spot  where  the  long- 
valued,  but  just  now  dishonored,  relic  had  fallen. 

"  Let  it  alone ! "  said  Remsen ;  and  all  but  little 
Meadows  stopped  short  of  the  place.  He  went  up  to 
it,  and  took  a  good  look  at  it,  as  it  lay. 

"Shall  I  take  it,  and  get  it  mended?"  asked  Mead- 
ows ;  but  the  owner  said,  "  No ! "  without  giving  any 
explanation  of  his  unwillingness  to  have  any  one  else 
own  what  he  himself  was  willing  to  throw  away. 

Such  things  —  indeed,  most  things  —  make  only  a 
short-lived  impression  upon  boys,  even  as  upon  men. 
The  by-standers  began  to  disperse,  remarking  Remsen's 
queer  way  of  treating  his  watch :  "  If  he  didn't  care 


222  ANTONY  BRAD?:. 


any  move  for  it  than  to  fling  it  away,  wliy  shouldn''t  he 
let  another  fellow  have  it,  that  would  take  cave  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  tlunk  Bvade  would  let  him,"  said  Hir- 
sett,  "  because  he  liked  it  so," 

"  Wheve  is  Brade  ? "  asked  Wadham.  "  He  isn't 
theve. —  Wq.  icas  theve." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  saw  him  theve,"  said  Meadows. 

But  Avlieu  they  looked,  with  all  their  eyes,  he  was 
not  there. 

Befove  this  time  the  fiimous  Peters  had  come  back, 
looking  now  contented  and  restored  to  every-day  life ; 
and  the  knot  of  boys,  considerate  (like  men)  of  tlie 
lustre  that  was  fresh  on  him  just  now,  stopped  to  give 
him  an  account  of  the  treatment  of  the  historic  time- 
piece, and  pointed  to  the  spot  where  it  was  lying. 
Thereupon  Peters,  with  his  head  in  the  air,  walked 
slowly  up  to  the  borders  of  the  little  knot,  which  still 
stood,  of  that  which  had  been  gathered  about  Russell 
and  Remsen  and  the  watch,  and  there  stood  looking 
first  over  toward  the  rejected  heirloom,  and  then  tow- 
ard the  doer  of  the  strange  deed,  as  if  to  establish 
some  fanciful  explanation  between  them. 

When  Brade  appeared  presently,  coming  from  the 
direction  of  the  gymnasium,  Peters  ran  to  him,  with 
much  alacrity,  and  gave  him,  volubly,  such  information 
as  he  himself  had  gained. 

Remsen,  who  heard  it,  laughed  at  Peters's  manner,  or 
at  what  he  said,  but  did  not  interfere ;  and  Brade,  who 
could  hardly  forget  with  what  pride  and  confidence,  no 
longer  ago  than  that  morning,  he  had  borne  the  long- 
descended  relic  in  his  pocket,  ran  to  the  spot,  with 
Peters  following,  while  Remsen  and  Russell  walked 
leisurely  up  to  join  them. 


REMSEN'S   WATCH,   ETC.  223 

Brade  looked  at  it,  for  a  moment,  as  it  lay  in  the 
brown  turf,  on  its  back,  like  a  stranded  Gallipagos 
tmtle,  with  his  upper  shell  knocked  in.  He  kneeled 
and  put  his  ear  to  it,  and  proclaimed  that  it  was  "  all 
going;"  for  the  stout  old  thing  had  kept  its  honest 
"  works "  together,  and  with  a  steady  ticking  was  do- 
ing its  best  to  bear  up.  He  took  it  tenderly  in  hand, 
and  looked  it  over  carefully,  and  put  it  carefully  in  his 
pocket. 

If  Rcmsen  had  been  inclined  to  say  any  thing  about 
this  disposition  of  the  watch,  something  even  more 
pressing  called  his  attention. 

"  What's  happened  to  you,  Bradey  ?  "  he  asked  of 
his  friend,  who  was  hot  and  flushed,  and  looking  as 
if  he  might  have  fallen  in  the  gymnasium.  "  You're 
hurt,  man  !     How  did  you  do  it?" 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  any  thing.  It  doesn't  hurt :  it's  only 
a  little  scratch,"  said  Brade.  "  Does  it  show  much  ?  " 
And,  putting  his  hand  to  his  face,  he  examined  it  as  if 
to  see  whether  any  blood  had  come  away. 

"  What  ails  Tavleton  ?  "  Russell  asked,  while  Remsen 
was  occupied ;  for  Tarleton  might  be  seen  coming 
down  also,  but  walking  fast  over  toward  the  kitchen 
part  of  the  house,  and  holding  a  handkerchief  over 
his  f  ice. 

Boys'  lives  have  a  great  many  happenings  ;  for  boys 
are  almost  always  trying  at  one  or  other  of  all  the  laws 
of  the  universe,  and  practising  with  one  or  more  of  the 
great  elements  of  things.  So  they  are  never  surprised 
at  what  happens  to  each  other. 

Russell  walked  away  to  meet  or  overtake  Tarleton, 
and  the  others  took  the  snme  direction,  at  different 
rates  of  speed.     The  by-standers  (for  we  still  have  a 


224  ANTONY  BRAVE. 

part  of  our  chorus  with  us)  went  fast,  of  course,  to  be 
fii-st  on  the  spot.  The  principals  —  as  Remsen  and 
Brade,  and  (for  the  present,  at  least)  Peters  —  followed 
more  slowly. 

Tarleton  had  stopped  at  a  pump  which  stood  near 
one  of  the  doors,  and  was  washing  his  face. 

"  Let  me  see,  a  minute,  will  you  ? "  said  Russell, 
kindly,  coming  up  and  putting  his  hand  under  the 
boy's  forehead,  and  lifting  up  his  face.  The  poor  fel- 
low, what  with  one  or  more  black  eyes,  and  a  nose  out 
of  shape,  and  lips  all  swollen,  and  a  general  smearing 
of  blood,  was,  cei'tainly,  a  very  sorry  sight  to  see,  and 
our  "chorus"  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  do  as  Quintus  Horatius  Flaccus  advises  all 
right-minded  choruses  to  do :  they  began  to  pity  the 
wretched,  and  to  speculate  about  the  case. 

"  He's  got  a  bad  face,  hasn't  he  ? "  said  Meadows. 
"Did  Peters  do  all  that  to  him?" 

"No,  I  don't  believe,"  said  the  conquering  Peters, 
"I  hurt  him  so  much  as  that :  I  didn't  mean  to.  I  don't 
believe  I  did.  Oh,  no !  Pm  almost  sure  I  never  did. 
It  almost  makes  me  sick." 

The  bruised  and  disfigured  object  of  their  pity  here 
uttered  himself,  but  very  obscurely,  because  the  gates 
of  his  speech  would  not  open  very  readily ;  but  he 
seemed  to  say,  turning  to  these  speakers,  "  Do  clear 
out!"  or  "You  clear  out!  will  you?"  an  injunction 
with  which  they  partly  complied,  by  withdrawing  into 
themselves,  and  keeping  silence. 

"  I'll  get  something  for  you,"  said  Russell.  "  Don't 
wash  any  thing  except  just  the  blood ; "  and,  after  a 
moment's  disappearance,  came  back  with  Mr.  Stout, 
who  brought  in  his  hand  a  piece  of  raw  beef. 


REMSEN'S   WATCH,   ETC.  225 

"Fell  right  against  two  fists,  I  suppose,  and  hiti 
just  on  his  foce.  This  had  ought  to  be  goose-skin 
or  ass-hide,  by  good  rights,"  said  the  head  man,  not 
unkindly;  and  some  of  the  boys,  accustomed  to  his 
style  of  satire,  laughed.  He  added,  gravely :  "  but 
this'll  have  to  do  :  it's  the  best  I've  got." 

How  Tarleton  came  to  this  condition  our  faithful 
chorus  of  intelligent  by-standers  have  not  settled,  and 
are  still  discussing,  with  many  looks  at  Brade. 

Russell,  turning  for  a  moment  from  his  attendance, 
took  up  the  2:)ublic  expectation  by  announcing  the 
Referees'  report,  immediately  ;  then  wrapped  the  meat 
in  a  handkerchief,  and  led  off  the  disfigured  Tarleton 
to  the  house. 

Mr.  Stout  made  this  reflection  :  — 

"  The  strangest  j^iece  of  the  business  is,  that  where 
there's  one  chap  that's  met  with  an  accident  like  that, 
there's  always  another,  close  by,  that's  just  like  him, — ■ 
and  mebbe  more  so,  —  and  perhaps  neither  one  of  'em 
can  tell  how  they  got  it." 

He  had  not  scrutinized  the  group  of  boys,  to  see 
whether  this  general  principle  would  apply  to  any  of 
them,  but,  without  looking,  he  said,  — 

"  I  see  Brade  has  had  a  little  tumble,  too.  I  suppose 
there's  been  some  blowing.  High  wnnds  are  apt  to 
bring  a  good  many  things  down." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Stout  took  his  wheelbarrow  and 
rake,  which  were  close  at  hand,  and  w^ent  about  gather- 
ing his  fallen  leaves,  of  which  one  pile,  at  least,  we  know 
to  have  been  disturbed  during  the  woray  encounter  of 
Tarleton  and  Peters. 

"  Here  come  the  Monitors !  "  said  thfo  truvd,  as  Rus- 
10*  o 


226  ANTONY  BRADE. 

sell  and  Lamson  drew  near,  followed  by  Towne.  And 
now  all  was  expectation. 

"  Fellows ! "  said  Russell,  "  I  see  all  but  Tarleton  are 
here  "  — 

"  If  he  hadn't  been  a  fool,  he'd  have  been  here,  too," 
said  Towne. 

Russell  went  on  :  "  We've  been  to  the  ground.  Jake 
Moody  had  taken  his  dinner  down,  and  been  there  all 
day.  We  found  Remsen  and  Brade's  track  down  and 
back  from  the  fence,  —  Jake  showed  it.  Then  there 
was  one  down  by  their  snare,  where  Rainor  says  he 
came,  and  a  track  just  like  it  from  there  to  Tarleton's 
trap,  and  none  the  other  way.  Rainor's  gone  away. 
We  think  none  of  the  fellows  ever  went  to  any  trap 
but  their  own  ;  but  probably  Rainor  knows  about  it,  if 
any  one." 

"  I  didn't  believe  they  ever  did  ! "  said  Brade,  giving 
his  hand  to  Towne,  who  shook  it  heartily.  Remsen 
assented,  without  shaking  hands. 

No  one  could  make  out  why  Rainor  should  have  put 
one  party's  hare  into  the  other  party's  trap ;  but  every- 
body reserved  his  judgment. 

The  crowd  dispersed,  —  Brade  loitering  near  Rus- 
Bell,  —  and  soon  these  two  had  a  clear  place  to  them- 
selves, with  no  one  in  sight  except  Mr.  Stout ;  and  he 
was  a  little  way  oflf. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE   CAPUT  MEETS  BEADS. 

WiiEx  the  two  boys  found  themselves  alone,  as  they 
were  left  in  the  last  chapter,  Kussell  turned  to  Brade, 
and  asked :  — 

"  Did  you  do  that  to  Tarleton  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  feel  ashamed  of  pounding  into  a  fellow; 
only  then  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Brade,  apologetically. 
"  He  called  me  all  sorts  of  names,  and  abused  us  all, 
and  said  he'd  whip  Peters  or  any  of  us  he  could  get 
hold  of;  and  at  last  I  had  to  tell  him  to  let  Peters 
alone,  and  he  might  fight  me.  But  he  took  hold  of 
Peters,  you  know ;  and  wlien  I  went  up  there,  he  came 
at  me  in  an  awful  way.  He  gave  me  this  knock  before 
I  stirred.  I  had  to  hit  him ;  and  I'm  sure  I  did  not 
give  him  more  than  half  a  dozen  licks  before  he  gave 
out,  and  said  I '  didn't  let  him  have  a  chance.' " 

"  Well,  it'll  do  him  good,  perhaj)s.  It's  his  own 
fault,"  said  Russell. 

A  new  voice  spoke  :  — 

"  Tarleton's  got  a  pretty  hard  way  o'  gettin'  a  false 
face,"  *  said  Mr.  Stout,  who,  following  his  rake,  had 
come  near  them  before  they  were  aware,  but  who  said 
his  say,  as  if  not  at  all  connected  with  their  conversa^ 
tion.     "  It  wouldn't  cost  much  money  to  buy  one,  at  a 

*  Mask. 


228  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Btore ;  and  I  guess  he'd  be  just  as  well  satisfied,  and  it 
would  do  him  just  as  much  good."  And  Mr.  Stout 
moved  on  at  his  work. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  about  it,  Russell  ?  I  didn't 
want  to  fight,"  said  Brade,  seriously. 

"  Oh !  I  think  he  won't  show  it  much  in  the  course 
of  an  hour  or  two,"  said  Russell,  "  and  it  will  do  him 
good." 

"  But  it  isn't  like  a  Christian  to  fight,"  said  Brade. 
"I  know  that,  very  well ;  and  I  wanted  to  be  fit  to  be 
confirmed !  But  can  you  help  it,  always  ? "  Here, 
after  a  pause,  he  shook  his  head,  and  added :  "  you 
can't,  can  you  ?  " 

He  was  evidently  appealing  as  to  an  older  and  wiser 
Christian  than  himself. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  can  always  keep  out  of  it,"  Rus- 
sell answered.  "  It  isn't  Christian  to  be  quarrelsome, 
or  to  abuse  another  fellow,  or  to  be  a  tyrant;  but  you 
may  get  into  it  by  taking  another  fellow's  part,  or  you 
may  have  to  defend  yourself;  and,  if  you  don't  want 
to,  or  only  do  it  in  self-defence,  why  I  suppose  it'll  be 
looked  over, —  and  if  you're  sorry  for  it,"  lie  added,  as 
if  he  had  forgotten  a  part  of  his  argument.  "You 
know  it's  the  heart,  Brade :  it  mustn't  be  in  your 
heart." 

"  I'm  sure  it  isn't  in  my  heart,"  Antony  said,  de- 
cisively ;  "  that  I'm  sure :  it  isn't  in  my  heart." 

"  You  get  a  chance  and  go  and  ask  the  Caput.  You 
can  talk  to  him  as  easily  as  you  can  to  me,"  said  his 
adviser. 

"  But  I  couldn't  tell  him  about  Tarleton  ?  " 

"  He  wouldn't  ask  you  about  any  boy ;  but  he'll  gc 
into  it,  and  he'll  tell  you  every  thing." 


THE   CAPUT  MEETS  DRADE.  229 

There  was  a  short  silence  after  these  words,  while 
Brade  stood  thinking.  Then  he  said,  "  I'll  try,"  and 
they  parted. 

Opportunities,  in  tliis  world,  often  come  rery  timely 
to  our  wants ;  and  so  Brade  found  it  now.  He  had 
scarcely  walked  a  dozen  steps,  after  leaving  Russell, 
before  the  Rector  of  the  School  came  suddenly  upon 
him,  and  called  him  by  name,  as  he  was  slowly  walking 
and  thinking. 

"  Let's  go  on  together,"  said  the  Rector. 

So  here  was  a  chance  for  the  boy. 

"  Well,  Antony,  school-life  seems  to  agree  with  you 
pretty  well.  Was  it  Remsen's  family-watch  that  made 
the  mistake  about  time,  this  morning?  The  hands 
were  caught  together?  Old  fellows  (or  young  fel- 
lows) mustn't  fold  their  hands  in  the  midst  of  things, 
—  at  any  rate,  if  they  do,  people  must  look  to  other 
guides.  But,  if  that's  the  only  fixult,  it'll  be  easily  set 
right,  in  the  watch.  I  suppose  trapping,  just  now, 
doesn't  leave  time  for  the  '  Notes  on  Cajsar '  ?  " 

"  I  found  the  men's  notes  were  better,"  answered  the 
boy,  with  a  pleasant  laugh,  "  and  so  I  stoj^ped." 

"Well,  that's  just  honest  modesty.  I  suppose  the 
men's  notes  were  better,  no  doubt.  Yours  were  very 
good  practice,  though,"  said  the  Rector.  "  I'd  keep  on 
making  notes  upon  things  as  they  come,  in  lessons,  and 
reading,  and  any  thing.  Sometimes  even  boys  strike 
out  something  good  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  they  learn  to 
handle  things  for  themselves." 

"  I  always  keep  a  sort  of  a  note-book,"  said  Antony, 
modestly. 

"  So  do ;  and  tell  me  about  your  notes,  sometimes," 
said  the  Caput,  —  "  will  you  ?  " 


230  ANTONY  BRADE. 

They  had  tui'ned  the  corner  of  the  gymnasium,  and 
had  passed  "  Quercus,"  and  were  now  on  the  field  of 
the  late  conflicts.  The  spot  must  have  urged  upon 
Tarleton's  unwilling  antagonist  the  question  that  he 
was  longing  to  ask. 

As  they  crossed  the  ground  on  which  Peters  had  won 
his  unbloody  laurels,  and  on  which  Tarleton  had  been 
a  second  time  worsted,  not  without  blood,  the  Rector's 
foot  slipped  on  the  damp  earth.  He  probably  had  not 
foi'gotten  that  the  fighting  of  an  hour  or  two  before, 
had  been  done  here,  and  was  not  speaking  altogether 
at  random,  when  he  said,  — 

"  You  haven't  read,  yet,  about  Nisus  slipping  in  the 
gore  ?  " 

It  was  too  dark  to  have  seen  any  thing,  unless  very 
showy ;  and  if  Brade  had  thought  of  it,  for  an  instant, 
he  might  have  felt  sure  that  any  slight  blood  drawn  in 
his  encounter  with  Tarleton  would  hardly  have  fallen 
to  the  ground  at  all,  or,  if  it  had  reached  the  sod, 
would  have  kept  no  place  upon  it ;  but  his  voice  shook 
a  little,  as  he  answered  hastily,  — 

"  I've  heard  the  Fourth  read  it,  sir,  about  the  boxers. 
It  was  pretty  brutal,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Nisus  wasn't  one  of  the  fighters :  he  Avas 
running  a  race,  and  slipped  in  the  blood  of  a  victim. 
That  fighting  was  pretty  horrible  and  disgusting 
work." 

Now  was  Antony's  chance,  and  he  used  it. 

"  If  that  had  been  now,  sir,  those  fighters  couldn't 
have  been  Christians  ?  "  he  asked  ;  and  while  he  asked 
turned  his  face  over  towards  the  horizon,  as  if  the 
answer  did  not  concern  him  much. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  the  Rector.     "  We  excuse  wars, 


THE   CAPUT  MEETS  BRADE.  231 

because  nations  make  their  people  go  into  them  :  they 
ought  to  have  been  done  away  with  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago.  Mangling  and  slaughtering  honest  husbands 
and  sons  is  too  wickedly  foolish  to  think  of,  quietly. 
Fighting,  for  the  love  of  it,  or  for  anger,  or  for  mastery, 
is  brute's  work.  If  you  see  a  beast  attack  a  person, 
you  may  fight  him ;  if  you  see  a  ruffian  attack  a  per- 
son, he's  no  better;  if  a  ruffian  attacks  you,  you  may 
knock  him  off." 

"  That's  all  I  did,"  said  Brade,  without  thinking,  his 
spirits  rose  so  suddenly.  The  Rector  did  not  show  any 
consciousness  of  the  slip. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  confirmed,  sir,"  said  Antony, 
with  a  steady  voice,  "  if  you  think  I'm  tit,"  and  so 
brought  his  timid  desire  to  a  head,  at  once. 

To  those  who  serve  at  heavenly  altars  ;  to  those  who 
are,  by  ordination  or  occasion,  ambassadors  for  Christ 
to  souls  of  others ;  to  those  who  love  God,  or  believe  in 
God ;  to  those  who  have  any  awe  for  God's  breath  of 
life  in  the  young,  a  call  like  this  is  both  holy  and  touch- 
ing. It  is  the  seeking  of  the  soul,  already,  Avhen  blind 
and  helpless,  blessed  and  gifted  by  its  Maker  and  Re- 
deemer, to  come  consciously  into  communion  with  Him. 
The  moments  in  which  this  vital  work  is  going  on  are 
moments  of  trembling  precaution  and  hope,  and  wait- 
ing, until  the  soul,  still  very  new  to  our  manhood,  has 
laid  hold,  and  steadied  itself,  and  is  walking  in  tlie 
Spirit. 

"  Of  course,  Antony,  if  you  have  the  right  under- 
standing and  feeling  about  it,  it's  just  what  you  ought 
to  desire,  of  all  things,"  said  his  spiritual  pastor. 
"  Let's  have  a  very  high  notion  of  it.  The  Christian 
life  is  the  living  in  the  Spirit,  instead  of  the  flesh ;  and 


232  ANTONY  SHADE. 

'the  Spirit 'is  the  Holy  Spirit.  You  were  taken  into 
God's  family  before  you  knew  any  thing,  and  now 
you're  to  declare  openly  —  being  old  enough  to  know 
—  that  you  choose  God's  life,  of  yourself,  and  want  to 
live  in  it  for  ever.  That's  what  you're  doing,  my  young 
brother ;  and  the  Spirit  takes  part  in  it,  and  His  part 
He'll  do." 

"  That's  just  what  I  want  to  do,  —  whatever  is  to  be 
done,"  said  Brade,  simply.  "  God  will  have  to  help 
me,  I  know  ;  and  He  will  do  that,  of  course.  He  helps 
everybody." 

"  Of  course  He  will.  It's  only  through  the  Spirit 
that  we  can  live  that  life ;  and  He  dwells  in  the  Church, 
for  ever,  to  be  with  those  that  are  living  that  life. 
Jesus,  our  Lord,  is  that  Life,  and  the  Raising-up  from 
the  Dead  ;  and  it's  the  Spirit  that  enables  us  to  partake 
of  Christ,  in  worship,  and  in  self-denial,  and  in  kind 
doings,  and  in  the  great  commemorative  sacrifice  of  the 
Lord's  Supper.  '  He  that  eateth  my  flesh  and  drink- 
eth  my  blood  hath  everlasting  life,  and  I  will  raise 
him  up  at  the  Last  Day.'  All  that's  as  high  as  it 
can  be." 

"  And  what'U  I  have  to  do  ?  "  asked  Brade,  as  simply 
as  before. 

"  What  great  thing,  to  match  this  great  thing  ?  "  said 
L*ic  R^jctor,  smiling,  as  one  might  judge  from  his  voice. 
"  Just  what  the  Catechism  teaches  about  Baptism,  that 
Confirmation  follows :  —  '  Repentance,  whereby  we  for- 
sake sin,  and  Faith,  whereby  we  steadfastly  believe  the 
promises  of  God ; '  and  the  Spirit  Avorks  these  in  us ; 
and  we  must  pray  to  get  the  Spirit ;  and  it  is  He  that 
teaches  us  to  pray.  You  see  that,  the  moment  wo 
begin,  He  does  it  for  us  by  making  us  do  it." 


THE   CAPUT  MEETS   BRADE.  233 

They  had  been  drawing  nearer,  in  the  dusk,  to  the 
noise  of  the  play-ground,  though  they  had  walked 
slowly.  The  rush  of  the  tireless  foot-ball  kickers  could 
be  seen,  as  well  as  heard,  through  the  murk.  The 
Rector  changed  the  subject  of  the  conversation. 

"We  haven't  had  any  more  of  the  distinguished 
stranger  ?  "  he  said. 

Brade  laughed,  as  he  ansAvered,  "  No,  sir.  The  boys 
made  plenty  of  talk  out  of  that." 

"  Well,  we've  got  great  times  coming,  —  Mrs.  Wa''"!;- 
hain's  party  and  Benefactors'  Day.  Every  invited  boy, 
with  a  good  record,  shall  go  to  Mrs.  Wadham's." 

Then,  sending  the  boy  off  happy  to  his  fellows,  the 
Rector  kept  on  in  his  walk. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE  RECTOR    OF  THE  PARISH  AND   ONE   OF 
HIS  PEOPLE. 

In  the  middle  of  one  of  the  afternoons  —  a  beautiful 
afternoon  —  there  was  driving  sloAvly  down  what  is 
called  West  Road  one  who,  if  judged  by  his  appointments 
of  dress  and  horse  and  buggy,  and  his  way  of  saluting 
and  being  saluted  by  a  neighbor  or  two,  felt  himself  to 
be,  and  doubtless  was,  a  noted  man  of  Eastham.  la 
short,  it  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Thomas  Parmeuter. 

As  he  was  just  coming  to  the  turn  by  the  wood  from 
wliich  we  see  out  over  the  valley  to  the  hills  and  the 
one  mountain-top  beyond  the  Gap,  a  gentleman  bounded 
over  the  rail-fence  at  tliat  place  to  the  bank  above  the 
road,  startling  the  horse,  and  bringing  him  to  a  stand- 
still. This  gentleman  was  tall,  large,  —  a  little  solid 
and  heavy,  j^erhaps,  but  strong  and  healthy,  as  his 
action  and  figure  and  cheek  and  eye  all  showed.  His 
dress  was  that  of  a  clergyman,  ending  in  good  thick- 
soled  shoes,  now  pretty  dusty. 

If  both  jjarties  had  timed  the  meeting,  they  could  not 
have  met  more  exactly;  but  the  walker  apparently  had 
his  thoughts  upon  the  landscape  ;  for,  in  coming  over 
the  fence,  he  turned  toward  the  open  West,  and  it  was 
only  after  a  steadfast  look  to  the  hills  and  sky  that  he 
became  aware  of  horse-hoofs  and  wheels,  and  the  man's 
voice ;  then,  turning  to  the  driver,  whose  horse  seemed 


RECTOR   OF  TEE  PARISH,  ETC.  235 

to  be  recovering  liimself  from  a  short  fright,  but  was  noAV 
only  backing  on  his  legs,  and  starting  with  pricked-up 
ears  and  moving  nostril,  saluted  him  cheerily  and  apolo- 
getically :  — 

"  Oh !  Pardon  !  How  are  you,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  lifting 
by  the  rim  a  soft  felt  hat,  and  showing  d^ark,  auburn, 
curling  hair.  Do  you  see  that  atmosphere?  (I  wish 
we  had  a  good  English  word.)  It's  happiness  to  breathe 
it,  isn't  it?  And  only  look  at  those  hills!  as  if  they 
were  just  standing  still  to  enjoy  themselves!  That's 
for  my  little  cripple,  Billy  Carnes  "  (showing  his  coat- 
pocket  full  of  what,  from  shape  and  sound,  might  be 
supjjosed  to  be  nuts),  "and  this"  (opening  the  breast 
of  his  coat,  and  showing  fern-leaves)  "  is  for  poor  Mrs. 
Rainor." 

Whatever  might  be  the  reason,  there  was  no  corre- 
sponding flow  of  kindliness  from  the  other  party  to  the 
meeting,  who  was  pretty  evidently  in  a  graver  humor; 
nor  had  his  blood  been  wholesomely  stirred  up  and 
warmed  like  the  parson's.  After  exchanging  salutations, 
he  had  listened  patiently  while  the  clergyman  uttered 
his  cheery  speech,  assenting  Avith  "  Very  fine,  sir," 
to  that  part  about  the  landscape ;  and,  when  it  was 
done,  said,  smiling  rather  ironically,  "  You're  quite 
an  athlete,  sir  (I  believe  that's  the  word).  I  don't 
know  what  our  friend  Mrs.  Weatherbee  would  say  to 
such  agility.  —  She's  a  candidate  for  Confirmation,  I 
believe  ?  " 

"How  do  you  mean:  'What  would  she  think?'" 
asked  the  clergyman;  then  added,  good-naturedly,  "You 
mean.  How  would  she  like  to  do  it  herself?  I  can 
easily  conceive  of  her  objecting." 

The  other  explained  himself:  — 


236  ANTONY  BEADE. 

"  I  didn't  know  whether,  with  lier  habits,  she  might 
consider  the  Rector  altogether  clerical." 

"  What ! "  asked  the  active  parson,  with  look  and 
tone  of  amused  astonishment.     "  Pooh  !  " 

"She's  been  brought  up  an  Orthodox,* you  know," 
answered  the  driver.  Then,  after  a  preparatory  smile, 
he  said, "  I  believe  she  thinks  Mr.  Manson's  sermons  are 
so  short  she  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  'em.  She's 
more  critical,  perhaps,  than  old  Church  people." 

"  Mr.  Manson  must  look  out,"  answered  the  Rector 
again,  good-naturedly  ;  "  but  I  think  Mrs.  Weatherbee 
and  I'll  get  along  pretty  well  together." 

The  parishioner  had  not  yet  said  all  that  he  had  in 
his  mind. 

"  The  Church  Post  is  quite  satirical,  in  its  last  num- 
ber, I'm  told,"  he  said,  touching  his  horse  with  the 
snapper  of  his  whip  ;  making  him  start,  and  then  holding 
him  in.  "  You  know,  of  course,  better  than  I  can  tell 
you.  You  know  every  thing  that  comes  out  in  it,  I 
suppose.     That's  the  understanding,  I  believe." 

"  Of  course,  I'm  supposed  to,  and  bound  to,  and  do, 
generally,"  said  Mr.  Manson. 

Mr.  Parmenter  continued  :  — 

"  The  article  I  refer  to  is  upon  influential  laymen. 
I  believe.  The  title  is  not  very  elegant,  —  '  Lay-popes 
and  Nincom-popes,'  or  some  such  word,  though  not 
very  choice  language,  I  should  think.  Perhaps  you've 
read  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Mr.  Manson,  smiling. 

"  I  should  think  it  might  b.e  somewhat  unwise  to 
assail  the  great  lay-body,  which  supports  the  Church, 

*  In  New  England,  "  Orthodox "  means  Trinitarian  Congre- 
gationalist. 


RECTOR   OF  THE  PARISH,  ETC.  237 

and  furnishes  the  means  for  all  its  work,  and  all  its 
growth,"  said  the  objector. 

"I  should  think  so,  too,"  Mr.  Manson  answered,  still 
smiling. 

'*  Laymen  don't  like  to  be  called  asses ;  and  the  great 
business-men  of  the  country  consider  themselves  as 
having  some  judgment,  and  being  fit  to  exercise  some 
influence." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Manson ;  "  but  you  don't 
object  to  asses  being  called  asses  ?  and  you  don't  object 
to  silly  actions  being  treated  as  silly,  do  you?  I  don't 
know  what  a  paper  would  be  worth,  that  could  not  tell 
the  truth  ?  " 

"  Then  I  understand  you  to  approve  the  sentiments 
of  that  article  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  it,"  said  the  hearty  priest,  laughing  ;  "  but, 
Mr.  Parnienter,  let's  understand  one  another :  attacking 
abuses  or  wrongs  isn't  attacking  the  laity,  —  it  isn't  at- 
tacking persons  at  all.  Only,  if  you  fired  at  ofiences 
that  nobody  was  doing,  you'd  waste  ammunition. 
Sometimes  a  man's  so  close  to  a  tiling  that  he  gets 
hit  with  it,  to  be  sure  :  that  can't  be  helped,  and  there's 
no  reason  to  be  sorry  for  it.     It'll  do  'em  good." 

"  Sometimes  no  pains  are  taken  to  make  distinctions 
where  laymen  are  using  a  legitimate  influence,"  said 
Mr.  Parmenter,  "  and  the  public  are  apt  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  personal  attack." 

"  But  you  speak  as  if  you'd  been  hurt :  you  don't  feel 
personally  aggrieved,  do  you  ?  "  asked  the  cheery  Rec- 
tor-and-Editor,  upon  whom  Mr.  Parmenter's  steady 
gravity  and  tone  of  grievance  began  to  make  im- 
pression. 

"  I  can  scarcely  suppose  that  the  Rector  of  this  parish 


238  ANTONY  BBADE. 

would  make  an  attack  on  me"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  with 
dignity.  "  The  parish  would  all  take  it  home  to  them- 
selves, if  the  attack  loas  made,  —  as  one  man." 

The  cheery  priest  easily  recovered  his  equanimity. 
Here  he  laughed,  as  he  answered,  in  a  jesting 
tone,  — 

"  There  is  only  about  one  man  of  them,  altogether, 
to  '  take  it  home.' "  Then,  with  a  good-natured  attempt 
to  overcome  Mi\  Parmenter's  gravity,  he  added,  in  the 
same  strain,  — 

"  Happily  our  constituency  isn't  veiy  large,  —  count- 
ing the  six  men  that  don't  yet  come  to  church,  with  the 
two  that  have  begun  to." 

Mr.  Parmenter  seemed  to  be  in  no  humor  for  jests 
upon  so  serious  a  subject.     He  answered  :  — 

"  That's  rather  a  strong  way  of  putting  it,  I  think. 
Our  parish  is  growing :  the  soil  is  uncongenial,  but  the 
gi'owth  is  steady.  I  don't  know  what  the  result  of  the 
last  year  or  two  has  been  ;  but  it  was  counted  a  very 
respectable  parish  when  it  was  put  into  your  hands. 
A  parish  that  contributed,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  last 
year,  one  hundred  and  eighty-seven  dollars  and  over  — 
forty-three  cents,  I  think  —  to  diocesan  missions,  isn't 
insignificant,  I  should  say." 

This  answer  seemed  to  be  dictated  by  a  wish  to  show 
that  the  jjarish  was  doing  as  well  as  could  be  expected ; 
that  possibly  it  might  do  better ;  and,  if  so,  better  work 
was  needed  from  the  Rector. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  was  only  in  fun,"  said  Mr.  Manson.  "  j^'ve 
brought  in  a  family  or  two,  thank  God  !  If  we  had  an 
enrolment  of  bona-fide  names,  I  fancy  we  could  make 
the  beginning  of  a  list.  But  let  me  tell  you  about  that 
article  on  nincompoops.     It  was  made  upon  communi- 


RECTOR   OF  THE  PARISH,   ETC.  239 

cations  from  half  a  dozen  different  places,  and  not  out 
of  my  own  hand  at  all." 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  it  your  own,  pretty  well," 
snid  Mr.  Parmenter;  then  added  :  "That  is,  I  judge  so, 
from  Avhat  I  liear." 

"  Certainly  I  went  against  the  abuses  full  tilt,  as 
usual." 

"  So  I  suppose,"  said  the  other,  with  grave  civility. 
"  Are  you  going  my  way,  sir  ?  "  Mr.  Parmenter  con- 
tinued, drawing  up  his  reins  before  starting. 

"Thank  you,  no,"  said  Mr.  Manson, jumping  from  the 
over-hanging  gravel-bank  as  he  spoke ;  but  taking  care, 
this  time,  to  alight  behind  the  carriage. 

So,  witli  mutual  salutations,  the  Rector  and  his  "  in- 
fluential layman "  separated  ;  Mr.  Parmenter  rumbling 
rapidly  away,  and  raising  a  dust  as  he  went. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    YOUNG    REPROBATE. 

The  Rector-editor  followed,  for  some  distance,  the 
same  road  with  the  buggy,  which  soon  went  out  of 
sight.  Before  long,  unmindful  of  Mrs.  Weatherbee 
and  of  Mr.  Parmenter,  he  crossed  the  bars  by  a  leap,  as 
before,  into  a  pasture  where  a  dozen  or  more  of  fine 
cows  were  feeding. 

As  he  walked,  with  a  quick,  steady  step,  across  the 
field,  turning  his  head  from  side  to  side  to  look  it  all 
over,  a  figure  of  a  boy  rose  from  behind  one  of  tho 
cows,  a  good  way  m  front  of  him,  and,  turning  away, 
walked,  as  steadily  as  he,  down  toward  the  wood,  in 
the  hollow.  Mr.  Manson  did  not  quicken  his  pace ; 
but  he  called  after  the  boy  by  Christian  and  sur- 
name. 

"  Philip  !  Philip !  Rainor !  "  he  shouted,  not  with 
much  effort,  but  still  loudly  enough  to  be  heard  by  any 
intelligent  eai's.  The  call  was  altogetlier  unheeded : 
the  boy  neither  quickened  nor  slackened  his  steps,  but 
walked  straight  on.  The  gentleman,  smiling,  with  a 
shake  of  the  head,  walked  steadily  after  him. 

At  the  rate  at  which  the  two  were  going,  the  distance 
between  would  never  have  been  shoi'tened  ;  but  the  boy 
scarcely  entered  the  wood,  and,  passing  behind  two  or 


A   YOUNG  BE  PROBATE.  241 

three  of  the  outermost  trees,  was  seen  immediately 
coming  back,  —  not  exactly  over  the  same  ground  as 
in  going  down,  but  aslant ;  and  now  it  might  be  seen 
that  he  was  carrying  a  book,  which  he  seemed  to  be 
closely  reading,  in  such  a  way  that  his  voice  w^as  heard, 
now  and  then,  through  the  still  air  of  the  afternoon, 
as  also  was  seen  the  emphatic  accompaniment  of  his 
hand  as  he  read. 

The  clergyman  smiled  at  this  exhibition,  and  said 
aloud,  so  that  he  might  have  been  heard  a  good  way 
off,  "Urn!"  then  turned  a  little  from  his  own  course, 
so  as  to  bring  the  two  paths  together.  As  they  drew 
near,  the  boy,  at  the  sound  of  footsteps,  looked  up  from 
his  book,  and,  like  one  that  had  been  taught  manners, 
bowed  his  head,  and  said,  "  A  good  evening,  sir ! " 

Our  readers  will  remember  this  boy's  encounter  with 
Brade  and  Remsen,  on  one  bright  memorable  morning. 
He  was  a  shabby  lad,  with  ragged  clothes  and  shoes, 
and  a  sun-burnt  cap  hanging  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
with  the  visor  half-ripped  off.  His  face  was  pale,  sur- 
rounded by  straight,  light-colored  hair,  and  opened  by 
watery,  bluish  eyes,  and  a  watering  wide  mouth,  partly 
open,  showing  large  teeth. 

This  was  the  boy  whom  the  reader  has  already  met, 
in  the  matter  of  the  traps.  , 

Mr.  Manson  returned  a  kindly  greeting,  and,  as  he 
spoke,  held  out,  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  readily  seen  by 
the  other,  a  squared,  even,  and  apparently  unbroken 
package  of  paper  "currency,"  from  which  an  outside 
paper-wrapper  was  turned  back. 

A  change  flitted  over  the  boy's  flabby  face,  and,  by  a 
sort  of  instinctive  motion,  he  put  his  free  hand  to  his 
trousers'  pocket,  while  he  fostened  his  eyes  upon  the 
11  s- 


242  ANTONY  BRADE. 


package    of  currency.      The  pocket  seemed  to  be  a 
pretty  full  one. 

"  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  Philip,"  said 
the  clergyman. 

"  I've  got  to  drive  Mr.  Bancroft's  cows  home,"  an- 
swered the  boy,  but  standing  still,  with  his  eyes  upon 
the  package,  and  with  a  very  wakeful  look. 

"Would  you  rather  meet  me  by-and-by,  or  stop 
now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Manson. 

"  Well,"  said  the  lad,  "  I  dono's  I  care  about  doin'  ary 
one  of  'em." 

The  healthy-looking  man  who  was  talking  with  him 
seemed  in  no  way  surprised  or  disconcerted  by  his  un- 
gracious tone,  and  answered  gravely  and  decidedly, — 

"  But  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you ;  and,  as  it  wants 
some  time  of  sunset,  perhaps  I  may  as  well  do  it  now." 

The  boy  answered  in  a  surly  way,  "I  dono's  the's 
any  '  must '  about  it ;  "  but  he  stood  still,  nevertheless, 
and,  with  stealthy  glances  at  the  parcel  of  currency, 
pi'oceeded,  deliberately,  to  put  a  grass-stalk  into  his 
open  book.  Then  reading  aloud,  "  Page  forty-eight : 
'  and  that  was  the  last  of  him,' "  he  shut  the  book,  and 
put  it  away  into  a  jacket-pocket.  Another  grass-stalk 
he  put  into  his  mouth,  and  chewed  diligently. 

"  You  and  I  may  differ  very  much  in  our  ways  of 
looking  at  things,"  said  the  clergyman,  with  a  large  and 
confident  kindliness,  which  seemed  to  take  for  granted 
that  he  could  interest  the  boy  ;  "  but  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  go  upon  :  I'm  sent  out  with  a  message  to  anybody 
that's  going  wrong,  to  try  to  bring  him  right." 

"  You  can  preach  that  in  church,  can't  ye  ? "  asked 
the  boy,  looking  away :  "  I  don't  belong  to  your  church, 
nor  yet  no  other  church." 


A   YOUNG  REPROBATE.  243 

"That's  just  one  part  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Manson  ;  "but 
I've  got  just  as  much  to  say  in  a  sitting-room,  or  in  this 
field.  You  needn't  hear,  if  you  don't  choose  to  ;  but 
that  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me  about  my  duty." 

"  Don't  it  make  some  odds  if  I  don't  choose  to  hear 
ye  ? "  asked  Plul  Rainor,  but  yet  witliout  moving  to 
go  away. 

"  I'll  try  it,"  said  the  other,  still  holding  the  package 
before  him :  "  I  want  to  help  you  to  be  a  good  boy." 

"  S'pose  I  want  to  be  such  a  kind  of  a  boy 's  I  please, 
hain't  I  got  a  right?"  asked  the  young  good-for- 
nothing,  pulling  and  chewing  a  second  grass-stalk  or 
two,  with  nmch  seeming  indifference. 

"  If  you  mean  whether  I  can  tie  you  up,  and  "  — 

The  boy  interrupted  :  — 

"I  guess  you'd  hev'  to  ketch  me  fust,  f  one  thing," 
said  he,  shying 'to  one  side,  to  show  how  he  would 
escape,  if  an  attempt  were  made. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  that  I  shan't  try  to  do  :  all  I  want  is  a 
very  few  words,"  said  Mr.  Manson,  waiting  and  giving 
him  time  ;  and,  after  hearing  him,  going  on,  quietly  and 
patiently,  "  There's  a  right  and  a  wrong." 

"  Who  says  so  ?  "  asked  Rainor,  who  seemed  likely 
to  permit  no  common  ground  to  be  established  between 
them,  even  upon  truisms  which  had  been  accepted  ever 
since  the  world  began. 

The  moralist  allowed  time  for  this  interruption, 
though  he  took  no  notice  of  the  question,  but  re- 
peated :  — 

"  There's  a  right  and  a  wrong,"  making  a  good  pause. 
"  A  man  that  does  right  goes  on  well." 

"  Yes,  Jim  Fiskc,  that  made  so  mucli  of  other  folks' 
money,"  said  the  boy. 


244  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  He  was  murdered  by  another  man  as  bad  as  him- 
self," answered  the  clergyman. 

"  "Wall,  Stokes,  then,  that  murdered  him,"  said  the 
young  vagabond,  readily,  but  not  looking  at  the  re- 
spectable and  kindly  person,  who  was  listening  with 
all  patience,  and  who  now  answered,  — 

"  So  far  he  hasn't  gained,  and  he  hasn't  got  through 
yet.     Well,  now  it's  you  that  I  want." 

"  You  shall  hev'  me  if  ye  can  get  me,"  said  the  boy. 

"  So  I  suppose  ;  and  that's  just  what  I  expect  to  do. 
Now,  Rainor,  did  you  ever  feel  ashamed  or  sorry  for 
any  thing  that  you'd  done  ?  "  asked  the  moralist,  begin- 
ning from  a  new  position  a  direct  assault  upon  this 
thoroughly  entrenched  young  outlaw. 

"  I  dono  but  what  I  have.  Pooty  sure  I  must 
have,  when  it  didn't  turn  out  the  way  I  wanted  it 
to,"  Rainor  answered,  promptly,  from  his  (imaginary) 
fortress.  "  I've  felt  'shamed  'nough  'f  other  folks,  some- 
times." 

"Why,  I  know  better  of  you  than  that,"  said  the 
beleaguering  moralist,  heartily.  "  I've  heard  of  your 
having  been  a  leading  scholar  in  Sunday  school." 

The  boy  answered  both  bitterly  and  contemptuously, 
chejving  faster,  and  pulling  and  thrusting  into  his  mouth 
new  grass-stems :  — 

"  Plaguy  sight  o'  good  goiu'  to  Sabbath  school  done 
lae.  To  hev'  a  teacher  come  along,  'th  kid  gloves, 
liglit  afore  the  class,  when  ye'd  got  your  lesson  all 
perlict,  an'  was  the  best  scholar  'n  the  class,  'n'  look 
liorce,  'n'  say,  '  ye'd  ought  t'  look  better'n  that,  to 
come  to  Sabbath  school ; '  'n'  I'd  been  half  'n  hour 
fixun  up,  a-})urpose,  's  hap]»y  's  could  be." 

The  kindly  man  who  was  listening  attentively  threw 


A    YOUNG  REPROBATE.  245 

up  his  head  in  a  mute  gesture  of  sympathy,  and  was 
just  about  to  speak,  for  the  boy's  lips  quivered,  and 
tears  actually  showed  themselves  on  his  lids  ;  and  there 
he  was  —  this  hopeless-seeming  young  rascal  —  show- 
ing good  feeling,  and  proper  pride,  and  Avorthy  ambi- 
tion, and  a  very  serviceable  regard  for  the  opinion  of 
others  ;  but  there  was  more  yet :  — 

"  I  never  went  to  Sabbath  school  agin,  an'  in  two- 
three  months  they  sent  me  round  a  one-legged  doll, 
or  something,  f  my  Noo-Year's  present;  'n'  a  tract 
roun'  it,  —  'Let  not  the  sun  go  down  'pon  your 
wrath ! '  —  I  made  a  hole  'n  it,  and  stuck  it  on  our 
old  sow's  tail ;  an'  she  thrashed  round,  an'  lay  down  on 
it,  an'  mashed  it,  an'  trampled  it  all  into  muck,  in  no 
time." 

The  listener,  being  a  parish-priest,  may  have  known 
from  experience  that  there  are  a  great  many  Sunday- 
school  teachers  (one-third,  two-thirds,  occasionally 
three-thirds  of  them,  in  a  given  school)  who  have  no 
training,  or  calling,  or  liking  for  their  work  :  at  any  rate, 
he  did  not,  in  any  way,  undertake  the  defence  of  that 
Sunday-school  teacher,  or  of  the  race  of  sucli  teachers. 
The  little  confidence  which  had  been  just  brought 
about  by  the  sharing  of  this  painful  expei-ience  in  the 
boy's  life  promised  much  easier  work  in  the  establish- 
ing of  a  common  understanding  between  tliera  tlian 
had  at  first  seemed  likely.  As  moisture,  whether 
spread  through  miles  of  earth  or  air,  or  rounded  into  a 
drop,  is  a  good  conductor  of  heat  and  electricity,  so  is 
it  of  feeling;  so  it  was  with  these  tears  of  Phil  Rainor. 
But  if  the  package  of  "  currency "  was  the  subject  to 
be  come  at,  they  seemed  to  be  no  nearer,  and  getting 
no  nearer^  as  yet. 


246  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"But  then,  I  suppose,  somebody  called,  to  say  tliat 
there'd  been  a  mistake,  and  to  make  it  I'igbt,  and  to  see 
after  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  ever  so  much !  'N  about  three  weeks, 
teacher  come  to  the  door,  'n'  stood  a-talking  'th  mother 
on  her  bed,  inside  there,  'n'  I  was  a-doin'  chores,  in  the 
yard,  close  by,  'n'  said,  '  Th'  object  was  to  teach  the 
children  self-respect,  'n'  respect  for  teachers '  "  —  ("  But 
respect  for  God,  first,"  suggested  the  listener.)  "  That 
wa'n't  it,  fust  n'  last,  nary  one ;  the'  wa'n't  no  r'spect 
for  Him  about  it ;  'twas  all  'bout  the  teachers  and 
scholars,  an'  that  '  the'  was  a  good  many  nice-dressed 
children  there,  an'  a  fullah  hadn't  ought  to  be  shabby 
'n'  dirty  '  (I  wa'n't  dirty,  'f  I  was  shabby  "),  — here  was 
a  little  spasm  of  feeling  and  stoppage  of  speech, — 
"  '  an'  the'  hoped  I'd  show  a  proper  sperit  'n'  be  p'lite 
'n'  'umble ; '  'n'  about  a  peck  'f  apples  come  round  to 
mother  'n'  a  bottle  o'  rawsb'ry  vinegar." 

"There's  where  you  'felt  ashamed  for'  your  teacher, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"I  guess  I  did,"  answered  the  boy,  with  a  pecu- 
liar "  rising  inflection,"  as  elocutionists  call  it,  at  the 
end. 

"  I  don't  wonder,  and  I  can't  say  that  I  blame  you  : 
you  weren't  well  dealt  with.  Well,  now  I  know  where 
you  felt  ashamed  of  yourself,  —  when  you  left  your 
mother,  and  the  neighbors  came  in  and  saved  her." 

-A  dark  turn  came  over  the  boy's  face  at  this ;  and, 
glancing  at  the  sinking  sun,  he  repeated  what  he  had 
said  at  the  beginning,  that  "  he  must  be  looking  after 
Mr.  Bancroft's  cows ; "  and  he  was  turning  off,  accord- 
ingly- 

"  Stay  ! "  said  Mr.  Manson  ;  and  then,  adopting  the 


A    YOUNG  REPROBATE.  247 

boy's  vernacular,  repeated  the  synonyme,  "Hold  on,  boy ! 
—  that  isn't  all  of  it.  Do  you  remember  how  faitlit'ul 
you  were,  when  you  came  back,  and  how  she  said  '  there 
wasn't  such  another  son  in  Eastham '  ?  " 

"  That  wa'n't  nothin',"  said  the  boy,  not  yet  fairly 
turning  away,  and  even  looking  almost,  if  not  quite, 
bashful,  under  the  effect  of  this  commendation.  In  a 
moment,  he  even  came  nearer  than  this  to  the  fellow- 
ship of  good  morals  and  good  feelings  within  which 
stood  the  respectable  person  who  was  now  dealing  with 
him,  and  toward  which  the  respectable  person  was  try- 
ing to  draw  him.  Of  himself  he  offered  an  explanation 
of  the  dark-looking  place  in  his  history,  which  had 
been  just  brought  up. 

"  Why  I  left  mother  that  time  was  'cause  she  took 
part  against  me,  and  pretended  to  scold  me  for  not 
bein'  careful  'nough  'bout  m'  clo'es.  I  went  off  an'  got 
a  place  to  work,  for  next  to  nothin',  't  fust,  an  'hev'  my 
clo'es  an'  board.  I  was  goin'  to  giv'  'most  all  I  earned 
to  mother,  an'  do  her  chores ;  an'  the'  wa'n't  no  danger 
'f  her  dyin'  nor  nawth'n  like  it,  no  time ;  the'  wus  al'ays 
plenty  o'  neighbors  comin'  in,  an'  hangin'  roun'." 

Whatever  was  in  Mr.  Manson's  mind,  he  made  no 
attempt  to  interrupt  or  divert  the  boy  from  his  story: 
it  seemed  to  suit  his  purpose  very  well.  He  helped 
him  on  in  it  by  asking,  briefly,  — 

"  Did  you  stay  in  that  place  ?  " 

"No!"  said  tlie  boy,  with  a  strong  emphasis;  »fld 
there  followed  something  which  seemed  like  a  choking 
in  his  scrawny  throat,  and  something  which  seemed  like 
a  heaving  of  his  chest ;  and  these,  with  his  turning- 
round  and  kicking  at  a  tuft  of  grass,  showed  a  deeper 
up-stir  in  his  bosom  than  any  thing  yet. 


248  ANTONY  BRADE. 


This  unwilling  show  of  feeling  was  not  meddled 
with,  and  there  was  a  dead  silence. 

"B'canse  I  had  a  little  sore,"  Rainor  began  again, 
after  a  while  (and  over-dainty  and  even  delicate  read- 
ers must  put  up  with  the  mention  of  the  not-nice 
ailments  of  their  poor  fellows,  if  they  wish  to  come 
near  them  and  do  any  thing  for  them).  Then  there 
was  another  pause  and  a  dead  silence. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it ;  an'  I  done  the  best  I  could 
about  it."  (This  came  out  piecemeal.)  "  I  kep'  it 
washed  out  clean,  an'  put  in  a  plug  o'  cotton-wool,  — 
an'  done  the  best  I  could,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  repeating 
himself,  while  he  handled  his  unsavory  subject  with 
as  much  delicacy,  perhaps,  as  he  knew  how  to  use. 
"The'  said  'I  wasn'  nice  to  hev'  roun';'  said  'the' 
was  sorry'  (teacher'd  ben  givin'  'em  a  little  moral 
'dvice  about  me)."  Here,  with  a  last  definite  kick  at 
the  tuft  of  grass,  the  much-broken  explanation  ended. 
The  thing  had  touched  him  deeply,  and  the  hurt  was 
rankling  still. 

"  That  was  all ! "  said  his  sympathizing  hearer  cheer- 
ily. "Well,  you'll  do  yet,  Philip,  never  fear."  The 
voice  brought  Rainor  round  again ;  and  he  looked  up 
also  before  he  was  aware. 

"Now,  look  here!"  said  !Mr.  Manson,  holding  out 
the  package  of  scrip,  xxpon  which  the  boy  fixed  his 
eyes,  as  he  was  asked  to  do,  but  with  a  very  unintelli- 
geut  look  at  first,  so  much  was  he  still  occupied  with 
the  painful  thing  just  laid  open.  His  look  was,  for 
a  while,  as  unrecognizing  as  if  he  had  never  seen  any 
thing  of  the  kind  before,  or  did  not  know  enough  of  it 
even  to  desire  it. 

This  expression,  however,  did  not  last  very  long,  and 


A   YOUNG  REPROBATE,  249 

was  followed  by  a  look  of  something  like  confusion, 
and  then  by  a  smile,  which  seemed  as  separate  from  the 
rest  as  one  of  the  little  side-scenes  on  the  stage  is 
separate  from  every  other,  however  often  made  to  com- 
bine in  order  to  some  desired  effect.  There  the  smile 
was ;  but  the  face  was  not  made  up  into  any  definite 
expression,  and  so  the  smile  was  unemployed. 

"  You  dropped  this,  and  I  picked  it  up.  Now  don't 
let's  lose  the  good  understanding  we've  gained.  Let 
us  keep  on  understanding  each  other"  (for  he  might 
not  be  sure  that  the  boy  was  not  sinking  back  again 
into  the  saucy. doggedness  from  which  he  had,  with  a 
little  timely  and  skilful  help,  just  scrambled  out). 

"  If  you  say  I  dropped  it,  I  s'pose  ye're  goin'  to  give 
it  to  rae,"  Rainor  said. 

"No,  I'm  not,  at  all,"  said  the  clergyman.  "I  sup- 
pose you  know  that  one  of  these  bits  of  paper  would 
send  a  man  to  the  state's  prison  ?  Now,  don't  say  a 
word  yet ;  for  I'm  going  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of 
you.  I'm  a  friend ;  and  I'm  j^erfectly  willing  to  have 
you  know  it,  —  Now  any  one  of  a  hundred  of  these 
bits  of  paper  would  send  a  man  to  state's  prison,  by  the 
law  of  every  country  on  earth." 

"  Some  of  'em  haven't  got  no  state's  prisons,  nor  yet 
no  money,  neither,"  said  the  boy,  proposing  a  correc- 
tion, with  a  smile. 

"  Stay  ! "  said  Mr.  Manson,  shaking  his  head.  "  No 
mocking,  now,  my  boy!  I'm  going  to  keep  you  on 
your  best  side.  Remember  that  we  understand  each 
other:  I  know  your  discouragements  and  mortifications. 
You  remember  your  geography,  from  school  ?  Do  you 
remember  the  name  of  any  of  those  countries  ?  " 

"Over'n  Afriky,  I  s'pose,  somew'e's,  —  f  one  place* 


250  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Savage  ?  or  civilized  ?  (I'm  glad  you  recollect.)" 

"  Oh !  savage,  I  s'pose  :  I  shouldn't  say  they  was  very 
civilized." 

"  Yes :  all  civilized  nations  make  a  great  crime  of 
passing  counterfeit  money ;  in  some,  the  punishment  is 
death."  (The  boy  began  to  grow  paler,  even,  than  was 
natural  to  him.) 

"  I  hain't  put  off  'n  atom  'f  it.  But  what's  the 
odds?"  he  exclaimed:  "it's  jest  exactly  's  good  's  any 
the'  is  goin'.  'Taiu't  none  of  it  real  money:  they  called 
it  merchandise."  (This  reference  to  third  parties  he 
seemed  to  make  unwittingly.)  "  It's  wuth  jest  'xactly  's 
much  as  folks  '11  take  it  for.  What's  two-three  inches 
o'  paper  wuth,  any  how  ?  " 

"Now,  stop!  —  that'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Manson,  very 
quietly.  "  Let's  try  to  speak  truth  to  each  other.  Plave 
you  passed  any  counterfeits  ?  " 

"No,  I  hain't;  but  I  know  'bout  it." 

"  Well,  don't  talk  to  me  as  if  you  thought  I  hadn't 
common  sense,  or  didn't  know  how  much  you  knew. 
That's  nonsense.  You  know,  very  well,  that  this  is 
wicked  stuff,  and  the  men  you  got  it  of  wouldn't  dare 
to  acknowledge  it.  It's  only  in  the  dark,  and  under 
lies  and  cheats,  that  a  man  can  pass  them  off."  (All 
this  time  Rainor  looked  agitated.)  "  Now,  you've  got 
yourself  into  a  very  bad  position,  and  it's  hard  to  get 
you  out  of  it.  If  you  were  a  man,  you'd  deserve  to  go 
to  state's  prison  for  having  those  on  you." 

"  Who  says  I've  got  any  on  me  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  look- 
ing half-up,  askant. 

"  This  parcel's  enough,"  answered  Mr.  Manson. 

Instantly,  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  been  preparing 
for  it,  Rainor  sprang  toward  the  hand  that  held  the 


A   YOUNG  REPROBATE.  251 

fatal  package,  and  made  a  snatch  for  it.  Quick  as  he 
was,  however,  he  did  not  find  this  good-natured  gentle- 
man off  his  guard.  Not  only  did  the  spring  and 
snatch  accomplish  nothing ;  but  the  man,  quicker  than 
he  was,  putting  one  hand  in  front  and  one  behind,  laid 
the  boy  on  the  ground  almost  before  he  had  made  his 
spring. 

"  It  wouldn  t  be  hard  to  search  you,  you  see,"  said  the 
conqueror,  putting  his  hand  quietly  at  his  throat,  with 
just  effort  enough  to  keep  him  down. 

"  No,  ye  don't  pick  none  of  my  pockets!  "  answered 
the  young  prisoner,  trying  to  speak  and  act  like  a 
desperate  fellow,  and  drawing  a  pistol  from  inside  his 
jacket,  where  he  had  kept  one  hand. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  "  said  Mr,  Manson,  with  a  laugh  : 
"  you  don't  think  you  can  frighten  me,  do  you  ?  That 
thing  isn't  loaded,  and,  if  it  were,  you  wouldn't  use  it." 
The  boy  said  nothing,  and  certainly  made  no  formidable 
demonstration  with  the  wea])on,  which  was,  apparently, 
an  old,  six-inch  smooth-bore  of  the  cheapest  sort. 

The  unwilling  captive,  however,  began  to  squirm 
upon  the  ground ;  and,  as  he  writhed  about,  another 
package,  like  the  first,  found  its  way  out  of  his  trou- 
sers-pocket. 

"  Come,  come !  "  said  Mr.  Manson,  taking  possession 
of  this  booty :  "  I'm  not  going  to  hold  you  or  hurt 
you.     Get  up,  and  put  away  that  silly  thing." 

The  late  would-be  ruffian,  looking  rather  sheepishly, 
obeyed ;  but,  as  he  got  up  to  his  feet,  he  said,  glancing 
at  the  hand  which  now  held  two  packages,  — 

"  You  hain't  got  any  right  to  pick  my  pockets." 

"  Kow,  Philip,"  said  the  clergyman,  in  a  patient, 
kind  voice,  "  this  wicked  stuff  is  no  more  property  than 


252  ANTONY  BEADS. 


the  runnings  of  sraall-pox  are  property.  I'm  only  your 
friend :  I'm  not  a  constable,  and  I  want  to  help  you 
out  of  trouble.  You're  worse  than  I  thought,  —  some 
people  would  say  you  were  too  bad  to  do  any  thing 
with,  —  but  I  see  you're  not  very  far  in  yet." 

"  Pooty  much  's  they  say,  I  guess :  I  s'pose  they 
wouldn't  give  me  a  trial,"  said  the  boy,  answering  one 
part  of  the  sentence. 

"  No,  I  think  there's  plenty  in  you  to  go  upon :  we 
must  make  something  of  you." 

"Not  much,  I  guess,"  said  the  boy,  not  yet  facing  the 
eyes  that  were  looking  steadfastly  and  thoughtfully  at 
him. 

"You  wouldn't  have  gained  any  thing,  by  getting 
these,"  said  Mr.  Manson. 

"You  wouldn't  have  had  no  proof,"  interrupted 
Rainor. 

"  You're  mistaking  fearfully.  But  we  won't  argue ; 
and  time's  going.  You'll  have  to  drive  your  cows 
shortly."  (Philip  looked,  as  if  mechanically,  toward  the 
sun.)  "  I  want  to  get  you  out  of  this  ugly  business,  — 
out  of  the  men,  and  out  of  the  thing." 

"  I  haven't  said  nothing  about  no  men,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  mean  the  men  that  sold  you  this  vile  stuff,  and 
called  it  '  merchandise.'  Don't  talk.  Let's  consult  as 
friends.  I  want  to  get  you  out  of  this  first,  and  then 
make  an  honest  boy  of  you.  You're  pretty  deep  in 
this,"  he  said,  gravely  and  thoughtfully ;  "but  there  must 
be  a  way  of  getting  you  out,  and  then  I  know  you're  not 
lazy,  though,  I  hear,  you've  been  a  thief  and  a  liar,  and 
I  don't  know  what  else." 

"  I  hain't  lied  to  you,''^  said  poor  Philip,  "  'n'  I  guess 
the  most  stealin'  ever  I  done  was  I  took  a  St.  Bart's 


A   YOUNG  REPROBATE.  253 

trap  I  thought  they'd  left.  An'  I  put  it  back;  but 
they  wouldn't  hear  to  no  reason,"  Then,  with  a  look 
of  satisfaction,  —  "  Got  into  a  squabble,  though,  'mong 
'emselves,  t'other  clay ;  but  'twan't  the  right  ones, 
'xac'ly." 

"  Was  that  something  between  you  and  the  St. 
Bart's  boys,  lately  ?  " 

"  About  the  trap,  was  quite  a  spell  ago ;  but  I  played 
a  trick  on  'em,  jest  to  show  'twan't  so  easy,  all'a's,  to 
find  out.  I  meant  it  for  Remsen,  there,  'n'  Towne; 
but  two-three  others  got  into  a  tussle  about  it.  I 
wouldn't  'a'  done  it  'f  they'd  ben  any  ways  reas'nable 
'bout  the  trap ;  nor  I  didn't  want  to  set  'em  figlitin' 
nuther." 

"  What  was  it  that  you  did  ?  "  Mr.  Manson  asked. 

"  Changed  a  white  rabbit  over  from  Remsen's  snare 
into  the  other  fullah's  trap,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  wanted 
Towne  'n'  Remsen  t'  have  a  jaw  over  it,  an'  try  an'  find 
out ;  'n'  then  not  be  so  quick  to  think  they  knoo  all 
about  it,  an'  another  fullah  didn't  know  nothin'  an'  was 
all  lies,  to  boot." 

Ridiculous  as  the  thrusting-in  of  bungling  machinery 
like  this  into  the  workings  of  the  moral  universe  might 
appear,  Phil  Rainor's  story  had  the  appearance  of 
truth. 

"  We'll  have  a  better  way  than  that,  next  time," 
said  the  clergyman,  smiling.  "  Do  the  boys  know  yet  ?  " 

"  I  told  Tarleton,  —  one  that  fought  about  it." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  that  all  made  right.  Now,  we  must 
keep  you  out  of  state's  prison." 

"  There's  a  plaguy  sight  o'  smart  fellahs,  by  all  tho 
talk,  gets  "  — 

Mr.  Manson  caught  him  up  :  — 


254  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  A  set  of  thieving,  lying,  gambling,  swearing,  fight- 
ing, house-breaking,  murdering,  defiling  villaius !  You 
must  have  done  with  all  that  sort  of  thinking,  or  the 
One  that  I  act  for  won't  help  you." 

"  'Taint  Tom  Parraenter  ?  "  the  boy  asked,  making 
free  with  the  name,  as  country  people  are  apt  to  do, 
about  any  one  who  has  grown  rich  among  them.  "  My 
gran'ther  picked  his'n  "  — 

Mr.  Manson,  with  little  curiosity  to  know  what  might 
have  happened  between  these  ancestors,  —  whether  one, 
more  lucky,  had  picked  the  other's  metaphorical  pin- 
feathers  for  him,  or  had  picked  him  up  where  he  had 
fallen,  or  whether  for  an  honest  wage  that  one  had 
picked  the  other's  peas  or  apples  for  him,  —  cut  short 
the  story :  — 

"  Ko,  it  isn't  Mr.  Parmenter,"  he  said  :  "  it's  God.  — 
Your  father  was  respectable.  —  Come,  I'll  walk  with 
you,  while  you  gather  your  cows." 

"  My  father  worked  himself  into  a  hactic,  an'  went 
off,  'fore  I  ever  knoo  him." 

"  Well,  we  must  try  to  get  you  up  to  something  re- 
spectable ;  but  we've  got  to  go  on  with  it,  —  no  thiev- 
ing, no  cheating,  no  lying,  —  we're  to  stop  short  ofi',  and 
start  from  where  we  are." 

"  If  I  say  I  will,  I  will,"  said  the  boy.  "  I'll  keep  to 
it,  'f  I  die  for't." 

"  I'll  trust  you,"  said  his  friend. 

He  paused  as  if  to  give  Rainor  a  chance  to  meet  him 
half  way ;  but  the  boy  was  silent.  Suddenly  he  broke 
out:  — 

"  Sh'll  hev'  to  do  it  m'self,  —  'n'  I  tried  once  and 
failed.  'Tain't's  if  I  had  any  friends,' or  en'thin'  to  go 
'pon.     Who's  a-goin'  to  git  me  a  place  ?  " 


A    YOUXO   REPROBATE.  255 

"  You'll  have  to  take  your  chance  for  that,"  said  tlie 
adviser,  quietly  ;  "  but  to  be  somebody,  and  not  a  villain 
or  a  scoundrel,  is  worth  all  risks.  You'll  have  to  stick 
fast.  You're  looking  at  it  in  the  right  way :  only,  if 
you  do  go  at  it  yourself,  there's  One  to  help  you  that 
you  don't  believe  in  yet." 

They  walked .  on  silently  for  a  few  steps,  down  the 
field. 

"  You'd  better  give  me  that  currency,"  said  Mr.  Man- 
son,  decidedly.  "  Of  course  I  shall  see  that  not  one 
bit  of  it  ever  passes." 

"  I  give  cash  for  that  scrip,"  said  Phil  Rainor;  "  but 
I  s'pose  I  must  lose  it." 

"  Yes,  that's  a  loss  I  can't  help  :  you'll  have  to  bear 
it.  If  you  waked  up,  you  know,  with  walls  of  fire 
all  round  you,  you'd  jump  through,  though  you  might 
lose  some  of  your  clothing,  and  get  scorched,  too." 

Here  was  a  pretty  strong  obstacle  to  meet,  at  the 
outset,  with  a  subject  to  work  upon  whose  habit  of  well- 
doing was  so  fresh  and  unstiffened  as  that  of  this  lad ; 
but  his  befriender  left  it  just  as  it  was. 

Rainor,  without  another  word,  began  emptying  his 
pocket.  The  vile  stuff  Mr.  Manson  received  with  an 
expression  of  disgust.  Then,  having  longer  and  larger 
experience  of  human  nature,  and  of  how  things  go  in 
it,  he  said  (and  pretty  much  in  the  boy's  own  ver- 
nacular) :  — 

"Perhaps  you  won't  feel  better  right  off;"  then,  as 
he  handled  the  wretched  stuff,  —  "  Enough  to  make  an 
honest  fellow  sick,  to  look  at  it!"  and  he  read,  from  the 
wrapper  of  one  of  the  packets,  "'Patent  Exemption 
Matches :  open  the  other  End ; '  and  a  counterfeit 
Revenue  Stamp ! " 


256  ANTONY  BRADE. 

All  this,  except  the  first  few  words,  might  as  well 
have  been  an  aside,  as  far  as  Rainor  was  concerned. 
He  seemed  to  have  heard  only  those. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  though,"  answered  the  poor  scapegi-ace, 
who  had  really  made  a  very  heroic  move  for  a  boy  like 
him,  and  might  have  been  excused,  if  he  had  felt,  as 
yet,  pretty  much  like  one  who  has  had  a  loathsome 
tooth  wrenched  out,  and  has  not  got  himself  back  quite, 
and  therefore  does  not  quite  know  how  he  feels.  "  I  feel 
better,  an'  plagued  glad  I  be  I  didn'  git  any  further 
into  it,  though  one  thing  you  can  tell  'em,  —  I  never  had 
a  mite  'f  it  'fore  this ;  an'  I  hain't  put  off  an  atom  o' 
this." 

"  Remember  we're  on  the  way  upward :  we've  made 
a  start,"  said  his  adviser. 

As  he  spoke  he  took  a  penknife  from  his  pocket,  and 
then,  laying  the  packets,  of  which  there  were  five,  on 
their  edges,  in  one  body  on  the  ground,  he  slashed 
deeply  into  and  across  them,  in  several  places,  and  then 
said,  as  he  lifted  himself  up  :  — 

"  Now,  what  we  want  is  a  match,  to  get  rid  of  these 
things  on  the  spot,  and  put  them  out  of  the  way  of 
doing  harm." 

Upon  the  word,  Rainor,  as  such  boys  always  can, 
produced  a  match  from  his  pocket,  and  Mr.  Manson, 
thus  supplied,  broke  every  package,  and  stirred  the 
whole  pretty  thoroughly  up  into  a  loose  heap,  inside 
the  newspaper  in  which  tliey  had  been  wrapped ;  and 
then  laid  the  parcel  upon  the  bare  top  of  an  imbedded 
stone,  repeating,  as  he  did  so,  a  line  which,  though  of 
course  lost  upon  Rainor,  doubtless  brought  some  satis- 
faction to  himself:  — 


A    YOUNG   REPROBATE.  257 

"  '  Lustramurque  Deo,  votisque  incendimus  aras.' "  * 

Then,  setting  fire  to  the  easily  kindled  mass,  he  for- 
mally took  off  his  hat,  and  said  to  the  boy  (what  he 
could  understand)  :  — 

"  Now,  Philip,  may  God  accept  this  as  a  little  sacri- 
fice ! "  and  he  fanned  the  flames  with  the  hat,  till  a 
bright,  strong  blaze  had  got  possession. 

The  boy  must  have  both  understood  and  sympathized 
pretty  well ;  for  he,  too,  took  off,  a  little  sheepishly,  his 
liai'd-worn  ca]),  and  npplied  himself  to  pushing  together 
the  fast-burning  pieces  of  paper  to  make  sure  that 
nothing  should  be  left  of  any  of  thein. 

The  very  last  bit  of  paper  was,  before  long,  burned 
into  black  and  brittle  uselessness,  and  was  ground  under 
Mr.  Manson's  heel,  and  then  scattered  with  his  foot  to 
the  air  and  the  earth. 

"  There,  Philip,"  said  he,  "  you've  done  the  first  thing 
well.  There'll  be  plenty  more  of  it  for  you,  like  the 
rest  of  us,  if  you  live  long  enough.  Doing  right,  after 
wrong,  will  be  hard,  sometimes,  and  cost  something ; 
but  it's  the  only  thing.  You'll  hear  from  these  scoun- 
drels and  their  '  merchandise,'  very  likely,  and  you'll 
have  to  be  strong.  Mind  you,  Philip,  no  giving-in,  a 
hair's  breadth !  Let  me  tell  you.  Tell  them,  at  once, 
that  you've  burned  their  vile  stuff,  and  that  I  know  all 
about  it.  Will  you  ?  Promise  me  !  "  (holding  out  his 
hand).  "On  your  honor!"  (as  Rainor  promised). 
"  That'll  do.  God  bless  you  !  "  and  he  left  the  boy  to 
his  cows. 

*  ^n.  iii.  279  :  "  We  purify  ourselves  to  God,  and  with  vows 
we  kindle  our  altar  fires." 

Q 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  BREATH  OF  FRESH  AIR. 

The  elements  of  which  this  world  is  made  up  are, 
happily,  very  different;  and  as  our  healthy  priest,  with 
every  reason  to  feel  thankful  and  happy  over  his  work, 
left  the  field  and  took  the  road,  the  musing  stillness 
of  nature  was  broken  only  by  his  own  quick  and  spring- 
ing footsteps ;  while  before  him  was  the  broad  waste 
of  the  sun's  abandoned  gold  which  the  clouds  were 
decking  themselves  with. 

Before  long,  there  came  up  from  some  turn  below 
a  very  clear  voice  from  a  girl,  as  separate  and  free  as 
steam  in  cooler  air, — 

"  A  little  rose  peeped  through  the  fence 
To  find  the  golden  sun  ; 
But  careless  fingers  plucked  it  thence 
Before  the  hour  was  done." 

Mr.  Man  son  quickened  his  pace;  and  soon,  turning 
into  a  cross-road,  came  upon  a  bevy  of  young  peo[)le, 
of  whom  one  was  our  friend  Kate  Ryan,  and  three 
others  he  addressed,  in  returning  their  salutations,  by 
three  different  Christian  names  with  the  one  surname 
of  Bemis. 

lie  complimented  Kate  cheerily  on  her  song,  and, 
failing  to  draw  from  her  a  second  stanza  (tor,  as  she 
said,  "  she  knew  no  more  of  it"),  applied  a  little  moral 


A  BREATH  OF  FRESH  AIR.  259 

of  his  own,  that  "  peering  after  '  golden  suns '  was  dan- 
gerous business,"  he  gave  his  voice  decidedly  with  those 
of  the  Misses  Bemis,  that  no  one  could  so  well  as  Kate 
represent,  at  Mrs.  Wadham's  party,  some  character, 
whatever  it  was  (from  which,  as  it  would  appear,  she 
wished  to  escape),  and  received  sudden  thanks  from  a 
voice  which  had  not  before  spoken  for  itself,  and  to 
which  he  returned  some  pleasant  compliment  to  "  Mrs. 
Ryan." 

Then  taking  leave  of  them,  after  this  momentary 
encounter,  which  must  have  given  a  pleasant  waft  to 
his  spirits,  he  went  on ;  gladdened  with  the  present  of 
nuts  little  Billy  Carnes,  the  cripple,  who  was  sitting  at 
a  window,  watching  the  not  very  abundant  life  upon 
the  road  ;  and  ended  by  finding  Mrs.  Rainor  waiting, 
and  a  little  impatient,  for  Philip's  coming  home.  Very 
naturally,  as  soon  as  a  footstep  was  heard  near  the  door, 
a  weak  and  rather  peevish  voice  called  "Philip !  "  But 
she  was  glad  to  see  her  visitor. 

Her  room  showed  many  little  contrivances  in  carpen- 
tering, —  as  shelves  for  flowers,  and  book-shelves,  and 
the  like. 

Poor  Mrs.  Rainor  Avas  not  alone  as  the  clergyman 
entered  ;  for  a  pleasant-faced  neighborly-looking  woman, 
to  whom  Mr.  Manson's  coming  in  seemed  to  give  much 
satisfaction,  was  sitting  in  a  corner. 

Mrs.  Rainor  had  alrc:i<'y  set  in  motion  her  intelligent 
consciousness  and  appreciation  of  her  forlorn  condition, 
and  they  were  expressing  themselves  in  words.  Mr. 
Manson's  strong,  healthy  nature  could  not  only  meet 
and  neutralize  a  great  deal  of  this,  but  also  give  back 
far  more  of  cheerful  and  hopeful  feeling.  He  listened 
attentively  and  respectfully,  with  well-timed  raonosyl- 


260  ANTONY  BRADE. 

lables  of  sympathy,  while  Mrs.  Rainor,  in  a  sharp,  plain- 
tive voice,  was  giving  a  faithful  account  of  "  that 
old  trouble  she  took  in  the  spine  of  her  back  the 
February  that  father  died ;  and  then  this  one,  that 
come  on  her  at  the  pit  of  her  stomach,  and  from  that 
straight  to  her  right  side."  Then,  as  the  thought  of 
supper  (peihaps  a  little  later  than  usual)  grew  strong 
to  her,  she  explained  that  "  the  way  with  her  was,  she 
would  have  a  good  appetite,  and  think  she  could  eat 
hearty,  and  enjoy  any  thing ;  and  when  it  come  to  the 
scratch,  'twa'n't  there,  and  every  thing  went  against 
her  ;"  and,  as  she  added  plaintively,  "  she  was  a  woman 
that  did  set  a  great  store  by  her  victuals."  This  appeal 
to  a  character  which,  if  nowhere  else  recorded  to  her 
credit,  was  doubtless  cherished  in  the  memories  of  her 
friends,  seemed  to  bring  some  relief,  —  comfort,  perhaps, 
could  not  be  expected. 

Mr.  Manson  got  the  conversation  turned  to  her  son, 
of  whom  the  mother  seemed  to  have  formed  a  pretty 
impartial  opinion :  that  "  he  was  thoughtless,  like 
boys,  and  yet  for  all  he  was  pooty  thouglitful,  and, 
no  doubt,  he  had  considerable  to  try  him ;  but  he 
meant  to  be  good  to  her.  There  was  a  time  when  he 
and  the  St.  Bart's  boys  didn't  seem  to  get  along  very 
well  together  for  a  spell ;  but  she  didn't  hear  no  com- 
plaints now.  Poor  old  '  mother,'  she  expected,  was  a 
burden ;  but  it  was  about  as  bad  for  her  as  anybody 
else  to  be  layin'  there ;  for,  yoic  know,  Mrs.  Weather- 
bee  "  (to  the  neighbor  in  the  corner,  and  in  a  high, 
wailing  tone,  which  contrasted  strongly  with  the  ener- 
getic vigor  of  the  words  which  it  faltered  forth),  "when 
I  was  any  ways  myself,  I  used  to  flax  round  lively, — 
I  tell  you:' 


A  BREATH  OF  FRESH  AIR.  261 

The  Parson  was  just  showing,  to  Mrs.  Weatherbee's 
admiration,  as  well  as  to  the  quiet  gratification  of  Mrs. 
Rainor,  his  gathering  of  ferns,  taken  up  with  little 
clumps  of  earth.  They  were  very  insignificant-looking 
in  their  winter  state;  but  he  was  setting  forth  the 
beauties  of  a  green  forest  under  glass,  for  which  Philip 
should  make  the  frame-work,  with  Mr.  Manson's  super- 
intendence. 

The  son  came  in  while  he  was  speaking;  and  he 
considerately  interrupted  himself  at  once,  and  took  his 
leave,  after  giving  Philip  notice  of  the  job  in  store  for 
hiia. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SOME   BOYS    VENTURE    ON    THE  FAIR    SEA    OF 
PHILOLOGY. 

The  days  of  boyhood,  as  we  need  hardly  tell  those 
who  ever  went  through  them  alive,  are  days  in  which 
we  are  sure  that  there  is  a  world  close  by  us,  and  open 
to  us,  in  which  are  Greatness  and  Glory  and  Beauty ; 
into  which  world  we  shall,  some  time,  go  to  get  them. 
Those  are  days  in  which  hope  is  stronger  than  any 
thing  it  meets  ;  in  which,  without  consciousness  of  our 
own  riches,  we  have  hold  of  a  share  of  eternity,  be- 
cause things  past,  —  the  achievements  of  the  race,  men 
of  the  furthest  ages,  —  their  words;  the  stands  that 
they  made ;  their  daring,  their  indignation,  their  en- 
durance, their  faithfulness,  their  chances,  failures,  tri- 
umphs, —  are  not  gone  out  of  being,  but  are  all 
there. 

The  wondrous  tongues  of  Greece  and  Rome  are 
great  to  the  boyish  fancy,  because,  as  boys,  we  come, 
through  thera,  into  a  sort  of  common  nationality  and 
relationship  with  all  the  Avise  and  great  who  breathed 
the  earlier  air  of  our  earth.  Latin  and  Greek  live 
yet,  and  thrill  from  mighty  brains  and  hearts  within 
the  same  nature  with  ourselves. 

Now  there  were  boys  of  fancy  at  St.  Bartholomew's 
School  J  and  at  least  one  current  of  ambition  was  set- 


ON  THE  SEA    OF  PHILOLOGY.  263 

ting,  at  this  time,  toward  discoveries  in  Language. 
We  have  heard  ah'eady  of  "  Notes  on  Csesar,"  and 
have  heard  the  friendly  encouragement  to  Brade.  Now 
it  was  understood  in  the  School  that  a  couple  of  Bar- 
tlemas  fellows  were  doing  what  probably  had  never 
been  tried  by  any  boys  of  any  school :  Brade,  of  the 
Third  Form,  with  help  from  Gaston,  of  the  Fourth, 
the  foremost  scholai-,  was  making  a  book  about 
Greek  and  Latin! 

Such  boys  as  had  mouths  most  ready  to  open,  as 
Will  Hirsett,  for  example,  were  open-mouthed  about 
this  forthcoming  wonder,  but  doubted  whether  the 
Caput  knew  of  it.  Hirsett  said  "  he  knew  that  Brade 
had  an  awful  heap  of  paper  to  write  it  on  "  (which  is 
certainly  one  step  toward  book-making),  and  Ransom, 
or  somebody,  "  had  seen  him  looking  out  ever  so  many 
words  in  the  dictionary,  —  Greek  Avords,  —  when  he 
wasn't  learning  his  lesson,  and  writing  them  down." 

To  questions  asked  directly  of  himself  about  this 
great  work,  Brade  answered,  with  a  very  natural  look 
of  satisfiction  qualified  with  mystery,  that  it  was  not 
any  thing  yet,  but  perhaps  it  would  be ;  and  Remsen, 
w^hen  he  was  appealed  to  on  the  same  subject,  had  said 
that  "  Brade  had  got  a  notion  in  his  head  that  would 
astonish  the  world,  as  he  (Remsen)  thought.  He  did 
not  know  exactly  what  it  was  himself;  but  it  was  a 
very  bright  thing." 

Mr.  Ilamerslcy,  the  new  tutor,  in  whose  recitation- 
room  was  the  largest  table  of  all,  had  given  Brade 
leave  to  take  his  books  into  tliat  room,  for  the  purpose 
of  this  work,  for  two  hours,  every  other  afternoon; 
and  certain  specified  boys  were  to  be  allowed  to  go  into 
it  with  him. 


264  ANTONY  BRADE. 


On  tlie  second  of  thq^e  afternoons,  there  were  seated 
in  this  room  Gaston  and  Bi-ade ;  and  on  the  great  table 
were  two  or  three  large  books  (like  lexicons)  lying 
open,  and  a  good  deal  of  writing-paper,  and  an  ink- 
htand  and  pens.  All  this  looked  like  a  preparation  for 
business;  but  the  two,  like  other  boys,  were  as  yet 
engaged  in  conversation,  and  both  looking  at  a  trans- 
parency in  one  of  the  windows  which  seemed  not  like 
a  part  of  the  regular  furniture  oi  the  room.  This  was 
a  copy  of  CoUins's  admirable  painting  of  the  "  Sale 
of  the  Pet  Lamb,"  from  Mrs.  Howitt's  story.  It  had 
all  that  exquisite  and  wonderful  shading  which  is 
characteristic  of  fine  specimens  of  that  sort  of  art- work, 
and  the  boys  were  duly  impressed. 

"  It's  too  bad,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Gaston.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose they  did  really  let  it  go  ?  That  girl's  pushing  the 
butcher's  boy.  —  She  couldn't  do  any  thing  that  way !  " 
he  continued,  with  the  wisdom  of  a  boy  a  little  older 
than  the  gii*l,  and  who  had  sisters  at  home,  and  knew  by 
experience  their  faults.  Then  he  laughed,  as  he  saw  a 
new  part  of  the  scene. 

"  Look  at  that  youngster  pointing  off  into  the  woods ; 
proposing  to  carry  the  lamb  off,  and  hide  it,  isn't  he  ? 
But  they  couldn't  do  it :  they'd  have  to  bring  it  back," 
said  he  again,  after  a  pause.  "  No,  they  needn't,  though. 
Why  couldn't  they  keep  it  off  in  the  woods,  some- 
where, and  carry  food  to  it  ?  " 

Brade  was  silently  watching  the  picture  (if  we  may 
so  call  a  thing  which  is  without  color,  but  which  repre- 
sents most  faithfully  a  scene  of  many-colored  life),  and 
said,  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  did  do  :  I  only  just  got  it 
to-day,"  and  he  looked  a  little  longer.     Then  he  said, 


ON  THE   SEA    OF  PHILOLOOY.  265 

"  But  there's  the  mother ;  and  the  butcher  is  paying 
down  the  money.  If  they  sell  it,  they'll  have  to  let  it 
go.  They're  poor,  and  they  can't  keep  it :  poor  people 
have  to  sell  their  things.     It  is  too  bad,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Gaston,  smiling, 
"  a  fellow  mustn't  he  poor.  If  you  get  money,  you  can 
take  care  of  yourself,  and  have  what  you  want  to." 

"  But  there  are  a  good  many  poor,"  said  the  other, 
"and  they  can't  help  themselves." 

"  Well,  all  I  say  is,  you  mustn't  be  poor.  If  a  fel- 
low can  learn  his  lessons,  he  can  learn  a  profession,  and 
then  he  can  make  his  way." 

"  It  would  be  good  if  we  could  stop  the  poor  from 
losing  their  things,"  said  Brade.  "  That's  one  thing 
Peters  is  after,  isn't  it?  He's  always  talking  about 
helping  people." 

"  Peters  has  got  some  smartness  in  him,"  said  Gaston; 
"but  he  hasn't  got  any  gumption.  I  don't  believe  it'll 
come  to  any  thing.  I'll  tell  you,  you'll  have  to  get  rich 
yourself  first :  oh,  yoit  are  /  but  I  ain't.  You  won't 
have  to  do  any  work,  if  you  don't  want  to ;  but  I  shall. 
And  my  father  always  said,  'Work  earns  pay ;  and  good 
work  earns  good  pay.'  " 

"  I  niean  to  work  all  my  life,  just  as  hard  as  I'm 
working  now,"  said  Antony,  with  quiet  determination. 
"  Every  man  ought  to  work." 

"  If  you  don't  Avork  any  harder  than  you're  working 
now,"  said  Gaston,  laughing,  "  I  don't  think  it'll  amount 
to  much  ; "  and  then,  without  further  words,  but  laugh- 
ing, Brade  gathered  the  papers  toward  himself. 

"  I'll  take  it  down  now,"  he  said, "  and  then  we  sha'n't 
look  at  it ; "  and  he  went  toward  the  window. 
12 


266  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  You  won't  have  to  do  that,  though,"  said  Gaston. 
"  We  needn't  look  at  it." 

"  We've  talked  about  it  long  enough,"  said  Brade ; 
and  so  he  laid  the  transparency  down  on  the  table. 

"  What  do  you  think  we  ought  to  call  it  ? "  he 
asked,  his  mind  now  full  of  the  other  subject. 

Gaston  seemed  as  full  of  it  as  he,  and  answered 
readily :  — 

"My  father  always  says,  'You  ought  to  have  some- 
thing steadily  in  your  mind,  and  keep  to  it ; '  but  he 
says,  '  It  don't  matter  about  naming  a  book  till  you've 
got  through ; '  and  he's  written  books.  He's  written 
several  books." 

"Wouldn't  'Analogy  of  Languages'  be  good?" 
Brade  asked.     "  Analogy  means  that,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

Here  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door ;  and  after  a 
parley,  to  make  sure  who  it  was,  Rerasen  was  let  in. 

"Yes,  I  should  think  that  would  do,"  said  Gaston. 
"  Well,  how  much  have  you  got,  so  far  ?  " 

Antony  was  busy  writing  down  the  name,  Avhich  he 
read,  as  he  finished,  "  The  Analogy  of  Languages." 
"You  can't  say  Greek  and  Latin,  can  you?  because 
there'll  be  others :  there'll  be  English,  and  others." 

"  Why,  there's  Sanscrit !  "  exclaimed  Gaston,  "  that 
everybody's  making  so  much  of:  my  father  says 
'they'll  find  out  every  thing  by  that,'  and  he  knows 
a  great  deal  about  languages." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Brade,  eagerly,  but  modestly,  "I 
think  I've  thought  something  about  that,  that  I  can't 
find  in  any  book  I've  got." 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Remsen,  "  he's  made  a  discovery,  I  do 
believe." 

"Don't  you  suppose,"  asked  Antony,  glowing  with 


ON  THE  SEA   OF  PHILOLOOT.  267 

bis  expectation,  " that  it  was  called  'Sanscrit'  because 
it  wasn't  written  ?  "  —  He  was  a  little  nervous,  as  lie 
spoke. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Gaston :  "  I've  thought  of  that ; 
but  I  never  remembered  to  ask  my  father.  I've  heard 
him  talk  of  it,  many  and  many  a  time.  Let's  see : 
'  sans  '  is  French  for  '  sine,  without,'  —  that  we  know. 
How  do  you  make  '  crit '  ?  Let's  see :  '  ecrire '  is  French 
for  '  scribere,  to  write,'  — '  scms-ecrit.'  If  it's  French, 
I  should  think  everybody  would  know  it,"  and  he  was 
evidently  puzzled.  Presently  he  assailed  it  again ; 
" '  Sine  scripto,'  —  '  sin-script,'  — '  san-scrit,'  —  it  might 
go  so,  couldn't  it?  and  then  people  would  forget  what 
it  came  from,  perhaps.  —  There's  a  word,"  —  he  con- 
tinued, thoughtfully,  —  "  look  here !  'tisn't  the  one 
I  was  thinking  of;  but  there's  '  doubt '  with  the 
«5"'_ 

"  Look  here ! "  exclaimed  Brade,  triumphantly, 
'■'■  ^  manuscrW  is.  French, —  with  the  '■p^  left  out." 

"  So  it  is ! "  cried  Gaston,  slapping  the  table.  "Good . 
In  '  doubt '  you  don't  pronounce  '  J,'  but  then  you  write 
it." 

"  Hooray  !  "  said  Remsen,  beginning  to  dance,  for  his 
part.  "  What  have  you  got  to  now  ?  Isn't  it  fun  ? 
St.  Bart's  School  is  going  to  be  heard  from." 

Our  philologists  must  have  made  more  noise  than 
they  were  aware  of;  for  a  giggling  was  heard  at  the 
outside  of  the  door,  wliich  showed  that  there  were 
more  persons  privy  to  the  gratifying  discovery  just 
announced  than  were  contained  within  the  walls  of  the 
room.  The  faces,  however,  of  the  successful  scholars, 
radiant  with  joy,  showed  lillle  concern  about  tlie  promis- 
cuous crowd  of  nameless  plodders  in  tlie  ways  of  learn- 


268  ANTONY  BRADE. 


ing  who  might  be  loitering  on  the  other  side  of  the 
secure  fastening  of  their  own  retreat.  They  said  no 
word  to  them;  and  Brade,  in  the  full  flush  of  the 
achievement,  occupied  himself  with  making  a  record 
of  it,  in  enduring  ink,  his  face  all  glowing  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  One  trouble  will  be  that  we  don't  know  all  the 
languages,"  said  Gaston.  "  We  know,"  he  continued, 
confidently,  "  Greek  and  Latin  and  French  and  Eng- 
lish, and  you  know  German.     How  many  is  that?" 

"  Six,"  said  Remsen,  like  a  ready  reckoner. 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  many,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  Gaston. 
"  As  far  as  it  goes,  you  know,  it'll  be  good.  Come  I 
let's  go  on  !  " 

"  Shouldn't  you  like  to  take  it  up  to  the  Caput  ?  " 
asked  Brade. 

"Yes;  but  let's  get  some  more  down  first,"  said 
Gaston. 

Antony  began  pulling  forth  with  his  forefingers,  from 
his  waistcoat-2:)Ockets,  little  rolls  of  paper,  wliich  he 
proceeded  to  unfold,  one  after  another,  spreading  them 
out  upon  the  table.  Gaston  seemed  disposed  to  depend 
upon  his  own  head :  at  least  he  made  no  show  of  pro- 
ducing memoranda, 

"  I've  got  a  few,"  said  Brade,  and  he  began  to  read. 

"  Here's  a  queer  one,"  said  he,  laughing  in  anticipa- 
tion, "  '  ^'jwcjxco  : '  *  in  Greek  that  means  to  cheioP 

"  Now,  how  do  you  suppose  that  ever  came  ?  "  said 
Gaston,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  scholar.  "  The  curi- 
osity of  it  is  that  a  fellow  that  smokes  don't  generally 
chew,  and  a  fellow  that  chews  don't  generally  smoke  ; 

*  "  Smoko,"  if  our  readers  will  allow  us  to  put  it  in  English 
letters. 


ON  THE  SEA   OF  PEILOLOOY.  269 

I've  heard  my  brother  say  so.  There's  a  change  that, 
I  suppose,  might  come  round  in  the  course  of  ages. 
Chewing,  probably,  comes  before  smoking.  They 
used  to  chew,  now  they  smoke.  I  wonder  if  there's 
any  Latin  word  like  that.  Look  out  smoke,  or  any 
thing  like  it,  in  Andrews.  I'm  pretty  sure  there 
isn't."   • 

Remsen  entered  into  this  very  readily,  and  turned 
over  the  leaves  so  fast  as  to  get  beyond  it,  each  way, 
before  he  hit  the  place ;  but  then  he  proclaimed  that 
"  there  was  nothing  like  it  there.  There  was  '  smarag- 
dus'"  ("Oh!  that's  Greek,"  said  Gaston,  who  had  a 
quick  ear),  "and  'smilax'  and  'smintheus'"  ("We  all 
know  that's  Greek,"  said  Gaston),  " '  and  smyr  — ' " 

"But  there's  nothing  like  'smoco,'"  said  Gaston; 
"  but  I'll  tell  you,  —  we  had  something  in  our  French, 
to-day,  '  s^moquer '  "  —  (Antony  looked  up  from  his 
papers,  at  this  new  '  analogy,'  if  that  is  the  name ;  and 
Remsen  was  tilting  backward  in  his  chair,  awaiting, 
with  much  equanimity,  the  progress  of  science.  Gaston 
went  on),  '-'•'■  s'moquer^  to  laugh  at  a  fellow;  when  you 
find  him  out,  when  you  '  smoke '  him  "  — 

"  But  that's  short  '  o,'  '  m,oq-uer^  "  said  Bi'ade,  learn- 
edly :  "  in  Greek  it's '  omega.'  Besides,  it's  two  words, — 
se  m,oquer.  Oh  !  you're  only  joking.  We  mustn't  have 
any  thing  but  what's  pretty  solid.  I  know  the  German : 
it's  schmauchen  ;  but  in  German  it  only  means  '  smoke.' 
We've  got  German  and  Greek  and  English,"  he  added, 
summing  up  complacently.  "  There's  another  word  I 
don't  suppose  we  could  bring  in,  —  that's  '•  schmuck^ 
dress.  You  see  '  smock '  's  the  same  word,  I'm  pretty 
sure ;  and  farmers  wear  '  smocks ; '  but  then  there's 
some  kind  of  a  woman's  dress  called  that,  too.     If  it 


270  ANTONY  BRADE. 

wasn't  for  that,  we  could  bring  it  under  '  smoke, 
couldn't  we  ?  You  see^  it's  very  light:  they  could  make 
tinder  of  it,  and  that's  a  sort  of  smoke." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  could  bring  it  in  so," 
said  Gaston. 

"  If  it  wasn't  a  woman's  dress,"  said  Brade,  doubt- 
fully. "  Well,  here's  another !  "  and  he  smiled  pleasantly 
again,  in  anticipation,  as  before  his  first  word,  and 
showed  no  trace  of  that  excessive  irritability  which 
seems  to  belong  to  men  of  words,  but  was  apparently 
happy  in  the  harmless  rewards  which  science  herself 
gives,  "  '-^xwp'  (scor)  :  that  means  'dirt,'  'filth.'  That's 
just  like  '  scouE,'  isn't  it  ?  I  could  not  find  any  Ger- 
man for  that "  — 

"They  don't  have  any  filth  in  Germany,  perhaps," 
said  Gaston,  laughing. 

"  Or  they  don't  have  it  scoured  up,^''  said  Remsen, 
who,  as  it  will  be  remembered,  comes  of  Holland-Dutch 
stock. 

"  There's  French,  I  found,  — '  scorie^  "  said  Antony, 
resuming. 

"  Hah !  from  the  Latin ! "  exclaimed  Gaston,  promptly ; 
for  Gaston,  as  we  have  seen,  has  a  sharp  nose.  "Isn't 
it  Greek,  too  ?  Where's  the  Lexicon  ? "  looking  to 
Remsen,  apparently  content  with  head-work  for  him- 
self 

"Haven't  you  got  enough?"  said  Remsen,  to  whom 
the  manual  and  mechanical  part  of  science  seemed  to 
come  much  like  what  would  be  drudgery,  in  any  other 
department.     "  I  can't  find  Greek." 

Brade  hastened  to  fill  the  gap  :  "  Yes,  yes,  it's  the 
same  thing  as  '  Zy.wQ : '  *  it's  from  that." 

*  Prouounced  "  score." 


ON  THE  SEA   OF  PHILOLOGY.  271 

"  Haven! t  you  got  enough  ?  "  asked  Gaston  :  "  that 
is,  for  a  beginning  ?  "  Then,  himself  suddenly  feeling 
the  breath  of  science,  he  was  carried  away.  "  Oh  !  " 
said  he,  "  do  you  suppose  our  word  '  score '  comes  from 
that,  because  it's  put  down  in  black?" 

"  Come  !  "  said  Remsen,  "  now  let's  stop ! " 

"  Oh !  not  yet,  not  yet !  a  little  more ! "  said  Antony, 
disappointed.  Then,  with  a  generalship  suggested  by 
the  occasion,  as  Quintus  Horatius*  says,  and  possibly 
some  other  people  have  said,  a  leader's  genius  is  dis- 
played, at  a  pinch,  he  secured  Remsen's  patience.  "  I've 
got  one  of  Nick's  coming  directly,"  he  said.  Gaston, 
though  restless,  had  enough  of  a  turn  for  philology  to 
make  him  sure,  for  a  while. 

"  There  are  not  a  great  many,"  said  Brade  :  " '  riyiVKt ' 
(temno),  I  cut ;  Latin,  '  temno^  I  despise  ;  for  despising 
is  very  cutting  to  the  feelings,  you  know  "  — 

"  Ho !  look  here ! "  burst  out  Gaston,  laughing,  "  if  you 
despise  a  fellow,  you  cut  him,  don't  you  know  you  do  ? 
Yes,  put  that  down  !  put  that  down  !  "  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  Gaston's  interest  in  the  work  was  blazing  up. 
«  What's  Remsen's  ?  " 

"  '  /lixpig '  "  (dipsis)"  said  Brade,  "  Greek,  '  thirst ; ' 
Remsen  found  that.  He  says  '  dip''  is  the  same  thing ; 
for  when  you're  thirsty,  you  dip  up  something  to 
drink." 

"  Is  that  for  fun,  or  serious  earnest,  Remsen  ?  "  asked 
Gaston,  smiling. 

"  No,"  said  Remsen  :  "  why  shouldn't  it  be,  if  there's 
any  thing  between  Greek  and  P^nglish  ?  " 

"Well,  what  next?"  asked  Gaston:  "that's  not  bad 
for  Remsen.     Put  it  down." 

*  Satirar,  II.  viji.  73. 


272  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Here's  one,"  said  Brade,  hesitating.  "  I  don't  know 
about  it :  I  don't  feel  quite  sure." 

"  Give  it  to  us,  and  let  us  judge  for  ourselves,"  said 
Gaston. 

«  Well,"  said  Brade,  "it's  '  XsT^a'  (Hheima*),  Greek, 
'  winter ; ' '  hiems^  Latin, '  winter.'  —  What  I  was  think- 
ing of  was,"  continued  Brade,  hesitating,  modestly, 
over  a  venture  of  his  own,  in  language,  "'heimat,' 
in  German,  means  '  home  : '  now,  a  man  cares  more  for 
his  home,  in  winter,  when  he  wants  fire,  and  to  be 
warm  and  comfortable." 

"  Pretty  good  ! "  said  Gaston.  "  Besides,  perhaps 
their  houses  didn't  amount  to  much,  except  in  winter  : 
I  don't  believe  they  did.  And  there  was  one  time,  I 
suppose,  when  they  dug  their  houses  in  the  snow,  — 
that  would  be  their  home,  —  winter-quarters,  you 
see." 

With  all  this,  time  was  going  by,  and  the  light  was 
lessening,  as  Remsen  reminded  them ;  so  even  Antony 
seemed  inclined  to  hurry.  He  turned  over,  hastily,  his 
scraps  of  paper,  and  put  away  one  or  two  of  them  in 
his  pocket  again.  Then,  turning  to  Gaston,  he  asked 
for  his  contributions  to  the  stock. 

"  I  thought  of  one,"  said  Gaston  :  " '  nudoi '  (peitho),  to 
^persuade:'  the  stem  of  that  is  '■pith'  (jtid  in  Greek). 
Now,  isn't  that  just  like  it?  A  fellow  that's  Qot  pith 
in  him  is  the  fellow  to  persuade." 

"  Come,  fellows,"  said  Remsen,  "  ain't  you  ready  to 
stop  yet?  You've  got  enough  to  carry  up  to  the 
Caput,  and  show  him  what  you're  doing." 

*  The  double  H  will  represent,  perhaps,  to  English  readers,  as 
well  as  any  thing,  the  strong  aspirate  of  this  word,  and  leave  its 
shape  as  Brade  had  it. 


ON  THE   SEA   OF  PHILOLOGY.  273 

"  Would  you  put  that  in  ? "  asked  Brade  of  tho 
author  of  the  last  contribution. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Gaston.  "  Do  as 
you  please.  What  hard  work  those  Ancients  must 
have  had,  in  thinking,  when  they'd  got  to  turn  it  all  into 
Greek  and  Latin,  in  their  heads  !  "  he  added,  showing 
by  the  words  a  glimpse  of  boyishness  rather  surprising 
in  one  who  learned  like  a  man,  and  often  thought  and 
talked  like  one. 

"  Why  couldn't  they  think  as  easily  as  we  can  ? " 
inquired  Remsen,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way. 

"  Why  !  ain't  it  harder  to  think  in  Latin  and  Greek 
than  it  is  in  English  ? "  asked  Gaston,  with  smiling 
assurance. 

"  But  it  was  their  own  language,  you  know,  just  as 
English  is  ours,"  said  Brade,  —  "  except  us  Russians,"  he 
added.  * 

"  Well,  but  I  appeal  to  you :  ain't  Greek  or  Latin 
harder  to  think  in  than  English  ?  Take  '  vojii^co ' 
(nomizo),  to  '  think  / '  you've  got  to  have  '  think '  in 
your  mind  first,  and  then  '  vo^i^co ' ;  but  in  English  it's 
all  one  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

To  this  ingenious  and  well-put  argument,  neither  of 
the  other  boys  answered,  —  perhaps  not  seeing  tl^eir 
way  well  through  it ;  but  Brade,  setting  up  again  his 
transparency  in  the  window  for  the  entertainment  of 
his  friends,  while  he  should  be  occupied,  professed  his 
own  purpose  of  writing  out,  very  carefully,  what  they 
had  got  already,  in  order  to  carry  it  to  the  Head  of  the 
School. 

"  You've  got  that  about  the  Sanscrit  first,  haven't 
you  ?  "  asked  Gaston ;  and  being  assured  that  that  was 
12*  K 


274  ANTONY  BRADE. 

at  the  top  of  the  page,  and  should  be  made  very  plain, 
he  turned  slyly  to  Remsen,  as  if  leaving  Brade  buried 
in  his  work,  and  therefore  not  capable  of  hearing  or 
seeing  any  thing  besides. 

"  Look  here ! "  said  he,  aside,  laughing.  "  Let's  get 
up  a  little  more  by  ourselves.  You  write,  and  I'll  tell 
you  what  to  put  down.    First  say, — 

♦* 'Greek '"  — 

"  I  can't  write  Greek,"  pleaded  Remsen. 

"  Well,  there ! "  said  Gaston,  taking  Remsen's  pencil, 
and  writing,  —  * 

" '  Maaai '  [Mosai'],  the  same  as  '  Movaai '  [Moused^, 
the  Muses  ;  from  [xmaai  [mosaij ' "  — 

Here,  notwithstanding  his  being  so  busy,  his  brother 
philologist,  Brade,  slackened  the  steady  working  of  his 
pen,  and  was  evidently  listening  in  spite  of  himself. 
Gaston  went  on :  — 

"  This  verb  means  '  to  seek,'  or  '  mouse  out ' "  — 

As  he  got  so  far,  Brade's  pen  went  on  again  ;  but  the 
smile  on  his  face  showed  that  he  had  been  allured 
before  he  detected  Gaston. 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  said  he.     "  You  put  me  out." 

"  You  put  yourself  out,"  said  Gaston.  "  You've  no 
business  to  listen.  Here,  Remsen,  let's  have  one  more  " 
(Brade  kept  himself  hard  at  work) :  — 

"  ^xshis  [^slcelos'},  Greek,  '  leg : '  Neuter,  Third  De- 
clension, Genitive  (old)  skelesos.  Skelus^  Latin,  '  wick- 
edness : '  Neutei",  Third  Declension,  old  Genitive 
skelesis,  —  'ts,'  in  Latin,  answers  to  'os' in  Greek,  in 
the  genitive.  Wickedness  is  transgression  ;  transgres- 
sion is  walkinr/  over:  with  the  leg  you  walk  over. 
That's  the  way  it  came  to  mean  '  leg '  in  Greek,  and 
'  wickedness '  in  Latin." 


ON  THE   SEA   OF  PHILOLOGY.  275 

"  Now,  Gaston,  stop,  please ! "  said  Brade,  "  and  let 
me  write." 

At  this  request,  made  with  much  urgency,  Gaston 
abandoned  active  exertion  in  philology,  and  now  pro- 
ceeded to  examine  again  and  remark  upon  the  trans- 
parency. 

"  Isn't  the  little  sister  pretty,  kneeling  down  and 
giving  it  milk?"  asked  Remsen. 

Brade,  busy  as  he  was,  looked  up,  as  if  he  did  not 
hear,  but  still  turning  his  silent  and  abstracted  look 
toward  the  subject  of  Remsen's  criticism ;  then,  with- 
out saying  any  thing,  looked  down,  and  busied  himself 
with  his  work  again. 

"  There ! "  said  he,  in  a  few  moments,  rising  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction,  and  laying  down  his  pen  with  so 
little  thought  that  it  rolled  off  the  table  and  was 
picked  up  by  Remsen.  "  Look  here  !  '  Sanscrit :  the 
name  probably  derived  from  having  no  writings.' " 

"  That's  as  plain  as  printing,"  said  Remsen. 

"  Do  you  suppose  we  can  be  the  first  that  found 
that  out  ? "  asked  Brade.  "  I  hadn't  any  book  to 
look  it  out  in  exactly,"  he  said,  with  some  appearance 
of  apprehension  because  of  the  importance  of  the  thing 
which  was  at  stake.  —  "  Oh,  see ! "  he  said,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  one  of  his  scraps  of  paper  which  had  escaped 
being  put  into  his  pocket,  and  had  fallen  to  the  floor, 
"  I  didn't  know  whether  I  ought  to  put  this  in  or  not : 
^  Limn  (Latin,  illumino  ;  French,  enluminer).,  to  draw^ 
to  pamt^  particularly  in  water-colors.'  I  think  that 
might  come  from  Aiftvi]  (Umne),  a  lake,  —  don't  you 
think  it  might,  Gaston  ?  —  because  a  lake  reflects  every 
thing,  just  like  a  drawing.  What  do  you  think  of 
that?    I  haven't   put  it   down   yet,  because  I  don't 


276  ANTONY  BRADE. 


want  to  put  any  thing  down  that  we're  not  pretty 
sure  of." 

This  wise  regard  for  the  necessity  of  having  all  evi- 
dence weighed,  and  judgment  and  deliberation  used,  in 
whatever  they  did  for  a  science  so  exact  as  philology, 
met  Gaston's  approbation,  too,  who  said  at  once,  "  Oh, 
no!  it  wouldn't  do."  The  conscientiousness  of  our 
young  friends  will  be  gratifying  to  men  with  the  true 
scholarly  instinct,  who  know  what  Gaston  and  Brade 
perhaps  never  thought  of,  that  the  happiness,  if  not 
the  lives  of  some  hundreds  of  persons  (philologists)  is 
depending  upon  that  science's  being  not  hastily  nor 
easily  developed. 

"Water-colors!  water-colors!  Has  that  got  any 
thing  to  do  with  it,  do  you  suppose?"  said  Gaston. 
*'  It  can't,  though,  can  it  ?  That  only  means  mixed  in 
water." 

"  Come,  Anty ! "  said  Remsen,  with  a  tone  of  good- 
natured  indulgence,  "  don't  find  any  more ;  and  when 
you've  been  up,  and  got  through,  we'll  go  out." 

The  papers  were  gathered  together,  the  books  shut, 
the  transparency  taken  down,  and  then,  apportioning 
a  load  for  each,  they  went  forth  and  locked  Mr.  Ham- 
ersley's  recitation-room,  the  scene  of  hopeful  and  suc- 
cessful work,  behind  them. 

"  Perhaps,  some  of  these  days,  they'll  say  it  was  done 
in  there,"  said  Brade,  as  many  a  discoverer  or  inventor 
has  said,  with  his  lips  or  in  his  heart.  "  You'll  go,  too, 
Gaston  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  Remsen's  going  for  granted ; 
and  Gaston  assented,  only  insisting  that  Brade  should 
be  spokesman. 

As  the  little  procession  approached  the  Rector's 
door,  Antoqy's  heart  began  to  feel  more  and  more 


ON  TEE  SEA   OF  PHILOLOGY.  277 

strongly,  perhaps,  the  greatness  and  the  boldness  of 
their  venture,  for  he  began  to  lag.  Gaston,  however, 
showed  no  apprehensions,  and  after  a  word  or  two, 
to  keep  his  more  bashful  comrade  up  to  the  purpose, 
went  straight  up  to  the  door  of  the  Rector's  study, 
and  knocked. 

There  was  no  answering  sound.  He  knocked  again : 
there  was  no  answer,  still.  Gaston  began  to  laugh, 
Remsen  to  caper,  and  Brade,  raising  his  head  from 
listening,  came  forward,  and  Remsen  followed. 

"  The  Captain  isn't  in,"  said  Nicholas.  "  Now,  let's 
be  off." 

Gaston,  who  was  at  home  in  any  circumstances,  flung 
out  his  arm,  and  took  an  attitude.  " '  No  hope  of  gilded 
spurs,  to-day ! '  "  he  said,  like  an  orator  ;  " '  O  spem 
falla  — !'"  when  suddenly  the  study-door  opened, 
and  the  Head  of  the  School  stood  smiling  at  Gaston's 
attitude  and  the  expressions  of  the  group,  and  then 
invited  them  in.  This  introduction  took  off  a  good 
deal  from  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  but  it  also  put 
Brade  at  his  ease  ;  and  Brade  was  not  only  the  bearer 
of  the  treasures  of  learning  and  intelligence  contained 
in  their  papers,  but  was  the  chief  author  of  them. 

Gaston  was  not  a  bit  abashed,  and  at  once  mentioned 
the  purpose  of  the  party,  beginning  with  an  explanation 
of  the  circumstances  in  which  they  had  been  found  at 
the  moment  of  the  opening  of  the  door. 

"We  thought  you  weren't  in,  sir,"  he  said,  smiling  as 
he  thought  of  it,  "  and  so  we  were  just  beginning  to 
express  ourselves" — 

"  Pretty  well  done,  I  thought,  so  far  as  I  heard  and 
saw,"  said  Mr.  Warren ;  and,  having  seated  them  com- 
fortably, asked,  "  And  what  now  ?  " 


278  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"Brade,"  said  Gaston,  continuing  to  be  spokesman, 
"  has  got  something  he  wanted  to  show  you,  sir.  We 
boys  talk  over  the  meanings  of  words  sometimes,  and 
we  thought  we'd  found  out  a  few  things  that  looked 
right  to  us.  We  wanted  to  show  them  to  you  before 
we  did  any  more." 

During  this  speech,  Antony  maybe  supposed  to  have 
been  sitting  in  a  state  of  trembling  eagerness  and  ap- 
prehension also ;  and,  as  the  Rector  turned  to  him, 
he  got  up,  and  modestly  offered  the  manuscript.  There 
was  no  great  deal  of  it  as  yet  in  amount ;  but  it  was 
evident,  to  a  glance,  that, what  was  there  was  made 
very  plain  upon  the  paper,  in  clear,  fair  letters. 

"Some  more  of  our  Greek,  Antony?"  the  Rector 
asked,  as  he  took  the  paper. 

"  All  sorts  of  languages,  sir,"  said  Brade :  "  I  mean 
different  languages  we're  learning,  —  two  or  three." 

"  Oh,  ho ! "  said  the  Rector,  "  we  start  with  Sanscrit, 
do  we  ?     That's  pretty  far  up." 

Neither  Antony  nor  Gaston  offered  a  word,  leaving 
him  to  inform  himself,  as  he  would  in  a  moment  when 
he  began  to  read. 

Mr.  Warren  read,  and,  as  he  read,  he  smiled.  Gaston 
began  to  smile  contagiously.  Antony  began  to  blush 
all  over.     The  Rector  looked  up. 

"Did  you  ever  see  Dean  Swift's  fun  about  Greek," 
he  asked  Gaston,  " whei*e  he  says  that 'Andromache' 
was  the  daughter  of  an  honest  Scotsman  named  Andrew 
Mackay,  and  kept  his  name;  and  'Pygmalion'  was 
really  Pigmy-lion,  because  he  was  a  wonderfully  brave 
little  fellow ;  and  so  on  ?  " 

Gaston,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  had  a  turn  for  those 
things,  and  was  not  altogether  blind  to  fun,  even  where 


ON  THE   SEA   OF  PHILOLOGY.  279 

it  made  against  himself,  pricked  up  his  ears  at  this,  and 
laughed,  while  he  confessed  that  he  had  never  read 
Dean  Swift,  As  for  Antony,  his  face  showed  a  mixture 
of  feelings ;  for,  while  he  smiled  for  '  Pigmy-lion  '  and 
*  Andrew-Mackay,'  he  looked  as  if  he  did  not  yet  know 
whethei'  his  own  house  of  words  had  been  blown  down 
or  not,  and  was  not  quite  content. 

"  I  think  you've  got  some  pretty  good  things  here," 
said  the  Rector,  encouragingly.  "  You've  made  a 
capital  beginning."  Then,  seeing  the  expression  of 
Brade's  face,  he  added,  "Why,  beginners  in  science  pick 
up  pebbles  and  clam-shells.     You've  done  better." 

"  Some  of  it  was  half  fun,"  said  Brade,  "  and  some  of 
it "  (looking  round  at  the  others)  "  we  thought  might 
be  something,  possibly.  —  We  didn't  know." 

"  Well,  I'd  keep  on  with  it :  it's  very  good  practice. 
There's  one  thing  you  didn't  think  of  here.  Sanscrit, 
you  know,  is  a  written  language"  (Brade  blushed 
more  than  ever,  and  his  head  went  down  a  little,  in 
spite  of  himself;  for,  as  the  reader  knows,  the  boys' 
definition  of  Sanscrit  was  one  of  their  strongest  points; 
but  a  smile  came  out  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth)  ;  "in 
feet,"  continued  the  Rector,  "  as  thoroughly  written 
up  and  written  down  as  any  language  ever  was :  but, 
while  you  were  about  it,  trying  to  make  something  out 
of  the  name,  I  wonder  you  didn't  get  in  '  Sauct-script, 
sant-scrit,  san-scrit,'  because  it's  the  sacred  language 
of  the  Hindus." 

"Is  that  it ?"  asked  Gaston.  "We  didn't  think  of 
that,"  said  Brade ;  but  both  looked  encouraged,  as  if 
they  had  been  feeling  in  the  right  direction,  after  all. 

"No:  I  believe  it  means  'perfect,'  or  polished,'  or 
Bomething  of  that  sort,  really,"  said  the  Caput. 


280  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  That  dishes  our  definition,  sir,  pretty  well,"  said 
Gaston. 

"  I  hope  to  see  something  more  of  you,  in  this  line, 
yet,"  said  the  Rector :  "  as  any  thing  turns  up  in  your 
lessons  or  in  the  lexicon,  put  it  down,  by  all  means." 

So  here  the  philologists  took  their  leave,  and  brought 
away  their  papers.  Once  fairly  out  of  hearing,  they 
stopped  to  consult. 

"  We  weren't  so  bad,  after  all,  were  we  ? "  said 
Gaston.  "  Live  and  learn.  I'm  rather  proud  of  that 
'Sanscrit:'  the  Cap  did  something  like  it,  that  wa'n't 
much  better.  I  think  we've  come  off  pretty  well  for  a 
beginning."  And  now  three  pairs  of  nimble  feet  were 
skurrying  downstairs. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  FIELD-DAY  OF  THE   TRUSTEES. 

St.  Babtholomew's  School  had  no  endowment  but  its 
buildings,  most  of  which  it  had  paid  for  itself  already. 

This  fall,  an  announcement  had  appeared  in  the  pa- 
pers "  that  Thomas  Parmenter,  Esq.,  of  Eastham,  had 
begun  a  system  of  graduated  endowment"  in  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's School  in  that  town ;  and,  as  he  wished  to 
benefit  by  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  others,  he 
would  be  glad  of  communications  from  persons  familiar 
with  the  subject  of  higher  education  and  the  operation 
of  endowments.  This  piece  of  information  was  worded 
in  much  the  same  way  in  different  papers  in  which  it 
appeared,  as  any  inquiring  man,  who  read  different 
newspaper^,  could  easily  assure  himself.  It  was,  in 
substance,  taken  from  a  sort  of  circular  letter  which 
the  originator  had  sent  to  faculties  of  colleges,  to  heads 
of  schools,  and  to  eminent  literary  men  and  scholars. 

Of  course,  this  publication  and  Mr.  Parmenter's  ac- 
tion were  early  known  in  Eastham.  In  the  first  place, 
the  Trustees  of  St.  Bart's  School  had  been  officially 
notified  of  the  munificent  disposition  of  their  fellow- 
member,  and  had  convened  at  the  School,  in  imusual 
numbers ;  Mr.  Parmenter's  carriage  having  gone  ten 
miles  to  bring  Judge  Pearson,  who  was  hard  to  get. 
This  meeting  had  received  an  explanation  of  his  plan 


282  ANTONY  BRADE. 

from  its  author  in  person;  his  purjjose  being,  as  he 
explained  it,  to  endow  by  instahnents.  "  For  tliis  rea- 
son," he  said,  "he  had  used  the  word  'graduated.' 
There  were  dangers  in  too  sudden  inflation  by  very 
large  endowments;  and  there  was,  at  least,  safety  in 
endowing  by  degrees  or  step  by  step,  as  he  believed 
(in  deference  to  classical  scholars  who  were  present)  the 
word  '  graduated '  implied." 

At  this  appeal  to  classical  scholars,  Mr.  Manson 
said,  in  an  aside,  "  I'm  afraid  that  word  '  graduated ' 
often  implies  very  partially  endowed,  —  indeed,  chiefly 
endowed  by  their  degrees^  The  members  of  the 
Board  generally  smiled ;  and  Mr.  Parmenter,  having 
accepted  the  interruption  with  a  smiling  bow,  began 
again :  — 

"  It  wouldn't  do  for  him  to  question  the  attainments 
of  college-men ;  he  took  it  foi-  granted  that  tliey  were 
all  learned,  —  as  Shakspeare,  he  believed,  said,  '  all 
honorable  men.'  Possibly,  too,  the  Trustees  would 
pardon  in-  him,  as  a  man  of  business,  a  natui-al  anxiety 
to  see  to  the  operation  of  his  own  plan,  and  to  help  in 
the  administration  of  it." 

Mr.  Parmenter  then  informed  the  Board  that  "  Mr. 
Don,  who  was  one  of  their  number,  would,  he  was 
sure,  do  him  the  favor  to  furnish  any  explanation  which 
might  be  desirable  for  the  action  of  the  Board,  while 
he  himself  withdrew,  in  order  to  leave  their  consulta- 
tion quite  unembarrassed.  He  was  aware  that  the 
question  of  endowment  was  not  perfectly  simple.  There 
were  evils  to  be  guarded  against.  Endowments  some- 
times checked  the  spontaneous  flow  of  liberality,  were 
sometimes  a  hindrance  to  life  and  progress,  and  occa- 
sionally furnished  incentives  to  extravagance.    Perhaps 


A  FIELD-DAY  OF  THE   TRUSTEES.        283 

he  would  be  pardoned  for  using  an  illustration  from  his 
experience  in  the  country.  The  Trustees  were  aware 
that  he  had  devoted  himself  a  good  deal  to  the  in- 
terests of  the  country,  and,  among  other  things,  to  the 
development  of  agriculture,  —  indeed,  from  early  life, 
/le  had  been  more  or  less  practically  familiar  with  agri- 
culture. Now,  he  had  had  occasion,  in  connection 
with  agriculture,  to  use  guano,  as  well  as  other  kinds 
of  manure  ;  and  he  had  observed  that,  while  the  manure 
helped  the  development  of  good  crops,  it  helped  the 
development  of  weeds  too.  He  would  here  leave  the 
matter,  —  asking  the  indulgence  of  the  Trustees  for 
having  occupied  them  so  long,  and  referring  to  his 
friend  Mr.  Don  for  any  information  which  might  be 
needed  in  his  own  absence." 

He  then  took  his  hat,  and  withdrew ;  and  the  Trus- 
tees had  the  matter  before  them,  after  a  grave  set  of 
vibrations  from  different  members  of  the  Board  in 
returning  Mr.  Parmenter's  parting  salutation. 

There  was  the  very  moderate-sized  and  large-man- 
nered Dr.  Farwell,  with  one  long-necked,  sober-looking, 
white-cravatted  man ;  one  short  and  squat  man,  in 
white  cravat ;  several  respectable  gentlemen  not  notice- 
able for  their  dress ;  and  one  perhaps  as  likely  to  catch 
the  eye  of  a  stranger  as  any,  the  hearty,  wholesome- 
looking  Mr.  Manson,  who,  partly  behind  the  capacious 
chair-back  which  rose  above  Dr.  Farwell's  head,  was 
reading,  and  with  a  pencil  making  notes.  The  life 
of  this  organized  Board  soon  began  to  show  itself 
after  its  manner. 

"  The  first  motion  in  order,  I  suppose,"  —  said  the 
long-necked  serious  clergyman. 

"I  think,   myself,"  said  the  Reverend  Dr.  Farwell, 


284  ANTONY  BRADE. 


beginning  in  a  tone,  slow,  measured,  and  important, 
which  implied  keeping  on,  "that  we  have  arrived 
at  an  important  era  —  I  think  we  may,  perhaps,  fairly 
call  it  AN  EUA  —  in  the  affairs  of  this  School.  The 
communication  which  has  just  been  laid  before  us,  as 
a  Board,  strikes  my  mind  —  I  don't  know  how  it  may 
strike  other  members  of  the  Board,  but,  I  confess,  it 
strikes  my  mind  —  as  what  may  be  the  inauguration  — 
1  will  use  the  word  '  inauguration '  for  want  of  a  better 
—  the  inauguration  of  a  Great  Day  !  "  (This  last  ex- 
pression was  pronounced  with  strong  emphasis.)  "  The 
general  question  of  endowments — particular  endow- 
ments, ^ro/wse  endowments  —  I  am  not  at  this  moment 
prepared  to  go  into  myself;  but  I  think  we  can't  be 
mistaken  in  regarding  this  benefaction  as  an  accession 
of  just  so  much  power  and  force  to  this  School." 

"  Yes,"  said  a  gentleman  opposite  with  a  face  some- 
what like  that  of  a  reflective  racoon,  though  with  much 
more  solid  whiskers :  "  five  thousand  dollars  is  five 
thousand  dollars ; "  and  he  relaxed  the  gravity  of  his 
face,  with  a  smile,  for  that  expressed  the  thing,  and 
implied  that  the  speaker  knew  more  than  that. 

"  I  agree  with  Mr.  Pettie,"  said  the  short  and  stout 
clergyman,  as  if  he,  too,  understood  that  thing  about  as 
well  as  anybody:  "five  thousand  dollars  is  five  thousand 
dollars." 

"  There  is  more  involved  in  this  case  than  that,"  said 
a  thoughtful  gentleman,  taking  off  gold  spectacles  and 
holding  them  in  his  hand.  "  I  don't  wish  to  interfere 
with  any  expression  of  opinion,  or  the  offering  of  any 
motion ;  but,  if  agreeable  to  all  the  members  of  the 
Board,  I  should  like  to  call  u]>on  Mr.  Don  for  an  ex- 
planation of  the  plan  proposed." 


A  FIELD-DAY  OF  TEE   TRUSTEES.        285 

The  President  bowed,  saying  that  the  suggestion 
seemed  a  very  reasonable  one. 

Mr.  Don  assured  the  meeting  that  "it  would  give 
him  much  satisfaction  to  comply  with  Judge  Allen's  re- 
quest ; "  and  the  general  silence  indicated  that  every- 
body present  agreed  with  him.  Dr.  Farwell,  seeing 
an  occasion  to  give  to  that  silence  fitting  expression, 
said :  — 

"  Undoubtedly  —  he  spoke  for  himself —  it  was  emi- 
nently proper,  before  any  action  was  taken,  that  they 
should  have  the  case  in  its  length,  and  in  its  breadth, 
and  in  all  its  dimensions,  before  them,  that  they  might 
act  understandingly." 

When  Dr.  Farwell  had  thus  put  himself  in  the 
proper  attitude  to  the  business,  Mr.  Don  began :  — 

"It  had  been  (he  believed)  the  intention  of  Mr. 
Parmenter  —  until  diverted,  perhaps,  by  a  suggestion 
of  his  own  (the  speaker's)  —  to  give  a  full  explanation 
of  his  plan  to  the  Trustees  in  person.  The  suggestion 
referred  to  was  one  made  by  himself,  without  premedi- 
tation, —  a  mere  thought  of  the  moment,  —  that  the 
Trustees  would  like  to  testify  by  some  action  their 
appreciation  of  his  liberality.  This  was  simply  his 
own  natural  feeling.  Mr.  Parmenter's  explanation  to 
himself  had  been  brief  As  he  understood  Mr.  Par- 
menter, the  plan  was  to  endow  with  five  thousand  dol- 
lars now,  and,  after  an  interval,  with  five  thousand 
dollars  more;  after  another  interval,  five  thousand 
dollars  more ;  and  so  on.  How  long  it  was  to  go  on, 
he  could  not  say." 

There  was  a  pause,  and,  in  the  silence,  a  gentleman 
who  had  not  yet  spoken,  but  who  seemed  as  if  he  had  a 
good  deal  to  say,  inquired  :  — 


286  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Do  we  understand,  then,  that  five  thousand  dolhirs 
is  ah-eady  presented,  is  ah-eady  in  hand  ?  That  is  part 
of  tlie  statement,  I  tliink?  —  I  wish  simply  to  put  the 
thing  into  shape." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Don ;  then,  being 
familiar  with  propriety  and  parliamentary  usage,  turning 
to  the  President,  he  said,  "  If  I  may  reply  to  Judge 
Pearson,"  and  received  a  bow  from  the  presiding  officer. 
Tlien  he  proceeded,  "  I  should  say,  in  the  absence  of  the 
Treasurer,  that  that  amount,  or  its  equivalent,  is  in  the 
Treasurer's  hands." 

"It  is  in  the  Treasurer's  hands,  sir,  at  this  moment?" 
repeated  Judge  Pearson,  blandly. 

"Yes,  sir,  so  I  understand,  —  some  days  ago,"  said 
Mr,  Don. 

"  That  seems  to  be  conclusive,  upon  that  point,"  said 
the  Reverend  Doctor  Farwell. 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  inquire  —  if  there  is  no  ob- 
jection, and  if  I'm  not  taking  the  place  of  any  other 
gentleman,"  said  the  Honorable  ex-Judge  Allen,  —  "for 
the  purpose  of  laying  tlie  subject  still  further  open,  — 
whether  the  principal  or  the  interest  is  available  for  the 
School." 

"  The  interest,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don :  "  the  principal  is 
part  of  a  permanent  fund." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Reverend  Doctor  Farwell,  who  had 
a  faculty  for  knowing  just  when  he  ought  to  speak,  "  the 
case,  as  I  understand  it,  is  in  this  way :  The  principal 
of  five  thousand  dollars  —  or  five  thousand  dollars  — 
is  in  fund ;  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  the  com- 
mencement of  a  fund,  which  fund  is  to  be  increased. 
Tlie  interest  of  the  five  thousand  dollars  is  to  be  used 
for  the  School,  as  it  comes  in." 


A   FIELD-DAY  OF   THE   TB  US  TEE  8.        287 

"  Will  tlie  gentleman,"  said  Judge  Allen,  as  soon  as 
Dr.  Farwell  had  put  things  into  a  shape  satisfactory  to 
himself,  "  pardon  my  asking  one  farther  question  :  I 
wish  to  know  the  conditions  attached  to  the  donation ; 
or  whether  tlie  interest  is  placed  unreservedly  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Trustees." 

"  As  I  understand,"  said  Mr,  Don,  in  answer,  "  there 
are  no  conditions  whatever,  except  the  general  condi- 
tion that  the  interest  of  the  fund  shall  be  devoted  to 
the  payment  of  the  teachers  of  Saint  Bartholomew's 
School." 

"  That  seems  to  settle  the  matter,"  said  the  long  and 
serious-looking  clergyman,  who  had  not  sat  impatiently 
iinder  the  interi-uption  of  Dr.  Farwell  and  the  rest,  but 
had  entertained  himself  partially,  in  the  mean  time,  by 
side-talk  with  different  persons  near  him  till  his  time 
should  come.  "Whenever  the  Board  is  ready  for  my 
motion,  I  am  ready  to  put  it." 

"  It  will  be  proper,  I  suppose,  to  accept  the  endow- 
ment formally,  and  to  thank  the  donor,"  said  Judge 
Allen. 

"  Without  passing  judgment  upon  the  plan  of  oc- 
casional endowment,  which  is  only  partially  before  us," 
said  Judge  Pearson. 

"  What  we've  got,  we've  got,"  said  Mr.  Pettie,  with  a 
smile. 

"But  expressing  our  willingness  to  take  a  few 
more  of  the  same  sort,"  said  Dr.  Buttonn  (whose  name 
we  write  with  a  second  '  n,'  to  suggest  its  own  pronun- 
ciation), 

"  My  motion  "  —  said  the  clergyman,  who  had  waited 
so  long. 

"  I   cannot   feel  willing,"  said  Dr.  Farwell,  senten- 


288  ♦      ANTONY  BBADE. 

tiously,  "I  am  decidedly  unwilling  to  allow  this  subject 
to  pass  to  a  vote  without "  — 

"  We  haven't  any  thing  to  vote  upon  yet,"  said  the 
mover.     "  My  motion  "  — 

"I  will  wait  for  Mr.  Merxitt's  motion,"  said  Dr. 
Farwell,  "  of  course." 

"  My  motion  is,"  said  Mr.  Merritt,  reading, " « That  the 
Trustees  accept,  with  much  satisfaction,  the  munificent 
gift  of  T.  Parra enter,  Esq.,  one  of  their  number,  and 
place  upon  record  their  grateful  appreciation  of  the 
same ;  that  the  Clerk  be  directed  to  forward  a  copy  of 
this  resolution  to  Mr.  Parmenter,'  —  simply  a  formal 
resolution  of  acknowledgment.  We  can  now  consider 
the  matter,  and  take  such  action  as  we  may  see  fit." 

"  Whatever  action  the  gentlemen  may  take  will,  of 
course,  be  agreeable  to  me,"  said  Judge  Allen,  putting 
on  his  coat,  which  he  had  left  on  a  chair.  "  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  excuse  myself" 

Judge  Pearson,  too,  "had  engagements,  and  would 
be  glad  of  Judge  Allen's  company ; "  and  so  the  two 
ex-judges  took  their  leave. 

"  I  was  merely  going  to  say,"  said  Dr.  Farwell,  begin- 
mg  another  speech,  with  something  of  his  large  manner, 
and  gaining  more  of  it  as  he  went  on,  "  and  I  am  glad 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  giving  expression  to  ray  de- 
cided conviction  that  this  day  may  prove  a  turning- 
point  in  the  history  of  our  School.  Already,  without 
help,  and  under  the  excellent  management  of  the 
Rector  of  the  School,  we  are  paying  our  way,  and 
more,  —  we  are  more  than  paying  our  way,  —  I  suppose 
I  might  say,  we  are  prosperous,  —  without  endowment. 
Now  we  shall  be  able  to  do  more "  (emphatic)  "  than 
we  could  before  "  (emphatic). 


A  FIELD-DAY  OF  THE   TRUSTEES.        289 

This  was  a  good  place  to  stop  at;  and,  at  this  place, 
Mr.  Manson,  who  had  kept  himself  quietly  occupied 
with  his  book  and  pencil  until  the  judges,  by  going 
away,  had  left  the  burden  of  debate  and  deliberation  to 
be  borne  by  fewer  members,  said  :  — 

"  Verse  again :  ' Do  more,  Than  we  could  before' 
That's  like  your  rhyme  upon  the  Trustees." 

Whether  Dr.  Farwell  would  have  taken  with  per- 
fect equanimity  this  obstruction  to  the  flow  of  his 
speech,  if  there  had  not  been  in  it  the  reference  to  his 
former  success  in  a  still  higher  department  of  letters, 
we  will  not  say  ;  but,  as  it  was,  he  at  once,  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand,  disposed  of  the  rest  of  his  speech:  — 

"  That  was  all  that  I  tliink  it  necessary  to  say ; "  and  then 
turned,  smiling  pleasantly,  to  his  neighboi',  and  said, — 

"  This,  of  course,  was  nothing  :  that  was  an  accident, 
and  was  entirely  unintentional,  —  unpremeditated.  I 
wasn't  conscious,  at  the  time  of  making  that  rhyme 
(there  it  is  again),  that  1  was  saying  any  thing  more 
than  plain  prose,  —  the  plainest  prose.  You  know,  of 
course,  I  didn't  mean  to  call  that  poetry ;  but  (you're  a 
literary  man)  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  poetry  might 
not  be  confined  to  a  few,  the  Sacra  Vates,  (what  was 
it  we  used  to  learn  in  our  Horace  ?)  but  was  rather 
appropriated  to  certain  states  of  mind  "  (with  a  very 
definite  emphasis,  for  the  doctor  had  thought  these 
things  over),  —  "states  of  exaltation  ?  So  that  we're 
poets,  just  as  we're  eloquent,  under  what  you  may  call 
an  exaltation  of  the  faculties.  You're  a  poet  when  you 
feel  lofty  emotions.  You're  an  orator  the  same  way.  I 
don't  know  whether  this  ever  occurred  to  you  so  ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  often  that  I  could  be  a  poet,  —  that  I 
wanted  only  '  the  divine  afllatus,'  the  breathing." 
18  s 


290  ANTONY  BBADE. 


"  It  seems  very  probable,"  said  Mr,  Manson.  "As  an 
editor,  I  should  say  tliat  was  all  that  was  wanting  with 
most  of  our  contributors." 

"  I  never  tried  it  on  a  largo  scale,"  continued  Dr. 
Farwell,  sententiously,  as  usual ;  "  but  I  suppose  that  a 
man  does  it  when  he's  in  the  state  to  do  it.  You  put 
water  into  one  condition,  and  it  freezes :  you  put  it 
into  another,  and  it  boils.  You  put  a  man  into  the 
condition,  and  he's  a  poet."  (Here  the  vote  was  taken, 
and  Dr.  Farwell  interrupted  himself  long  enough  to 
say  "  ay,"  and  then  continued.)  "  That  idea  struck  me 
80  forcibly  that  I  wrote  a  sermon  on  that  subject  once, 
— '  All  Scriptui'e  is  given  by  inspiration,'  —  first  show- 
ing the  general  meaning  of  '  scripture '  (writing)." 

"  Mr.  Don  is  coming  with  a  proposition,"  said  Mr. 
Manson,  and  so  lost  (if  he  had  never  heard  it  before) 
a  summary  of  that  discourse;  for  the  speaker  recovered 
himself  easily  from  his  flight,  and  alighted  in  silence 
among  the  discussions  of  the  Trustees  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's School. 

"  I  had  in  mind,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don,  who  had  not  been 
in  the  Legislature  for  nothing,  "  that  it  seems  projier 
to  make  some  substantial  recognition  of  the  liberality 
which  has  been  announced  to  us,  —  something  more  than 
a  passing  vote  of  thanks.  I  know  that  it  is  not  uncom- 
mon to  do  it,  in  a  lasting  way.  There's  the  Hemingway 
Classical  Institute  and  the  Phillips  Exeter  Academy, 
and  others  of  that  character." 

"  How  would  you  propose  to  do  in  our  case  ?  "  in- 
quired Dr.  Farwell.  "  '  Pai-menter's  St.  Bartholomew's  * 
or  '  St.  Bartholomew's  Pai-menter's '  would  be  a  little 
harsh,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  Somebody  else  may  give  us  five  thousand  dollars,** 


A  FIELD-DAY  OF  THE   TB  US  TEES.        291 

said  Dr.  Buttonn,  with  a  smile.  "  I  don't  object :  I 
only  think  that  we  may  be  put  to  inconvenience  if  we 
undertake  to  name  the  School  after  every  donor.  I 
don't  object." 

"  Couldn't  we  make  it  understood,"  asked  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt,  smiling,  "  that  Ave'll  adoi)t  anybody's  name  that'll 
give  us  so  many  thousand  dollars,  and  put  the  sum 
pretty  well  up  ?  " 

"  Of  coui-se,"  said  Mr.  Pettie,  "  a  pros23ectiYe  endow- 
ment isn't  an  endowment  in  hand." 

"  Suppose  we  adopt  a  system  of  graduated  naming," 
said  Mr.  Manson,  "  at  ten  thousand  dollars  a  letter,  —  or 
twenty  thousand, — beginning  with  the  Christian  name  ?" 

"  All  this  perhaps,  which  is  only  intended  for  fun,  is 
very  well,"  said  Dr.  Farwell,  with  a  genial  smile.  "  I 
should  be  sorry  to  check  the  flow  of  fun  :  it  wouldn't 
be  good  for  boys,  it  wouldn't  be  good  for  men.  I'm 
inclined  to  join  in  it,  I'm  inclined  to  make  it  at  proper 
times  ;  but  it  is  not  business.  As  Beauregard,  or  who- 
ever he  was,  at  Balaklava,  said  of  the  charge  of  the 
Six  Hundred  (I'm  no  Frenchman ;  indeed,  I'm  pretty 
much  an  Englishman  about  French)  :  '  Say  magnific, 
but  non  la  gare,*  —  it  isn't  war.'  Is  there  any  further 
business  ?  If  there  is  not,  I  think  we  may  as  well  be 
going  about  our  own  business." 

Mr.  Merritt,  during  Dr.  Farwell's  modest  utterance 
of  his  quotation  from  B;ilaklava,  had  slyly  remarked  to 
Dr.  Buttonn  that  "  wh.it  was  not  French  in  it  was 
pretty  good  English,  wiiich  was  probably  better  than 
their  Mr.  Sabot-Roquelaire  would  have  done." 

*  A  sentence  much  like  this  of  Dr.  Farwell's,  in  sound,  is  said 
to  liave  been  uttered  by  Marslial  Canrobert :  "  C'est  niagnifique; 
mais  ce  n'est  pas  la  guerre." 


292  ANTONY  SHADE. 

This  criticism  Dr.  Farwell  overheartl,  and  answered 
good-naturedly :  — 

"  Don't  you  meddle  with  my  French  !  it's  the  French 
of  the  Academy." 

"  Yes,  you'd  have  learned  better,  in  College,"  said 
Mr.  Merritt,  facetiously. 

While  this  little  by-play  was  going  on,  other  members 
of  the  Board  were  engaged  in  conversation.  There 
was  by  this  time  a  general  readiness  of  the  Trustees  to 
adjourn,  when  Mr.  Don,  saying  that  he  saw  the  diffi- 
culties about  the  name,  suggested  that  there  might  be 
some  other  way  in  which  the  Board  could  testify  its 
appreciation. 

"  You've  voted  to  thank  Mr.  Parraenter,"  said  Mr. 
Pettie.     "  That's  a  beginning." 

"If  you  do  too  much  for  one,  you'll  never  be  able 
to  encourage  anybody  else,"  said  Dr.  Buttonn ;  "  but  I 
don't  object  to  any  thing,  —  I  only  make  that  sug- 
gestion." 

"  As  I  understand  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don,  holding 
fixithfully  to  his  purpose,  "  Mr.  Parmenter  is  beginning 
a  series  of  endowments"  — 

"  You  might  combine  two  things  in  this  way,"  said 
Mr.  Pettie.  "  The  boys  have  a  '  Pro-St.-Bart's-Day,' 
in  December,  because  St.  Bartholomew's  comes  iu 
Vacation  :  you  can  have  something  special,  on  that 
day.  Mr.  Don  tells  me  Mr.  Parmenter's  birthday 
comes  about  that  time.     You  might  put  'em  together." 

''That  would  be  a  very  proper  subject  for  future  con- 
sideration," said  Dr.  Farwell,  and,  with  general  assent, 
the  Trustees  rose  and  adjourned. 


CHAPTER    XXYII. 

MB.  DON  CALLS    UPON  MB.   PABMENTEB,    ON 
BUSINESS. 

Near  the  top  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  liills,  and 
just  in  the  middle  of  Eastham,  commanding  a  wide 
view  in  all  directions,  was  a  large  and  very  architectural- 
looking  house,  which,  as  any  one  could  tell  you,  was  Mr. 
Parmenter's.  This  gentleman  our  readers  have  already 
met ;  and  to  this  house  wo  shift  for  a  while  the  scene 
of  our  story,  because  Mr.  Parmenter  is  not  only  a  great 
man  in  Eastham,  and  has  a  good  deal  to  say  and  do  in 
town  affairs,  but  also,  as  has  been  seen,  carries  great 
weight  in  the  affairs  of  St.  Bart's  School,  and  influences, 
moreover,  the  fortunes  of  our  Antony  Brade.  It  is  in 
the  forenoon  of  one  of  those  fine  days  that  make  the 
fall  in  New  England  the  loveliest  season  of  the  world's 
year. 

A  flag-staff  went  up  from  the  top  of  the  roof  into 
upper  air,  from  which  was  commonly  flying,  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  the  day,  a  red  flag,  with  an  angular  device 
of  some  sort,  which  the  neighbors  differently  explained. 
"  Old  Uncle  Nat  Burrows,"  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  (very 
often  to  be  found,  in  pleasant  weather,  leaning  on  his 
stick,  at  his  front  gate),  would  say  that  "  Tom  Parmen- 
ter was  jes'  like  a  boy  about  that :  's  quick 's  ever  he  got 
home  from  his  store,  he  set  to  work  an'  histed  that 


294  ANTONY  BRADE 


thingamy,  to  let  folks  know  he  was  there,  —  the  way 
they  did  at  the  State  House  ;  "  but  what  device  it  bore 
neither  he  nor  any  one  near  him  would  pretend  to  say, 
with  certainty,  —  most  of  the  neighbors  having  settled 
it  that  "  it  was  some  nonsense ; "  and  Mr.  Chambers,  the 
carpenter,  who  had  done  "  a  sight  of  work  in  that  house, 
first  and  last,"  saying  that  he  "  didn't  know,  but  had 
always  thought  it  was  a  square." 

A  short  way  went  straight  and  steeply  up  —  in  some 
I)laces  by  stone  steps  let  into  the  sod  —  to  a  little  flat, 
in  front  of  the  house;  while  a  carriage-road  wound 
up,  with  easy  and  leisurely  bend,  to  the  same  place. 
The  house  had  a  great  arch-way  through  the  middle, 
from  front  to  back,  and  had  plenty  of  windows  in  front, 
and  chimneys  atop. 

On  both  sides  of  the  archway  were  verandas  whose 
floors  were  continuous  with  opposite  platforms  inside 
the  arch,  on  each  of  which  opened  handsome  doors,  — ■ 
one  from  its  size  and  style,  evidently,  the  main 
entrance. 

Up  the  side-path  to  this  house,  that  day,  the  reader's 
friend,  Mr.  Don,  had  climbed,  with  some  loss  of  breath 
and  weariness  of  legs,  if  one  might  interpret  his  atti- 
tude and  gait,  as  he  stooped  over,  with  his  hand  at 
his  side,  after  getting  to  the  gravelled  flat  before  the 
house. 

" '  Ah  !  —  who  can  tell  —  how  hard  it  is  —  to  climb  — 
The  heights  where  Fame's  proud  pinnacle  '  "  — 

he  uttered,  as  he  could  catch  breath. 

"  Allow  me  to  correct  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
who  was  opportunely  in  front  of  his  archway,  at  the 
moment:    '"The  height  where   Fame's  proud  temple 


MR.   BON  CALLS   ON  MR.    PARMENTER.     295 

shines  afar.'     I'm  familiax-  with  that  stanza,  for  I  print 
a  very  large  edition  of  it  every  year,  you  know." 

"  No  :  you  surprise  me,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Don,  re 
covering  his  wind,  and  speaking  a  little  like  books  of 
the  last  century.     "  I  wasn't  aware  of  it,  sir.     I  remeni 
bered  the  verse  (or  stanza),  from  the  girls  speaking  it, 
at  school,  when  I  was  a  boy.     You  publish,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  connection  with  my  business,  I  publish  a 
large  edition  of  "  Standard  Selections  from  the  Poets." 

"  Certainly  a  very  desirable  thing,  sir,  to  have  your 
productions  associated  with  the  flower  of  our  litera- 
ture. As  I  frequently  say,  I  can  compare  your  situa- 
tion here  to  nothing  but  a  lord  of  the  manor ;  that  is, 
just  about  my  ideal  of  what  a  lord  of  the  manor  would 
be." 

Mr.  Parmenter  loked  very  "modest  at  this  compli- 
ment, and,  turning,  instinctively  glanced  over  the  front 
of  his  house,  architectural  and  capacious,  and  answered, 
with  befitting  self-depreciation  :  — 

"  In  a  small  way,  only,  sir,  I'm  afraid.  We  can't 
have  the  reality,  here." 

Mr.  Don  had  followed  the  direction  of  the  owner's 
eyes,  and  in  looking  upward  caught  the  slow  waving 
of  the  emblematic  flag  (of  which,  indeed,  if  he  had 
known  or  remembered  the  habits  of  great  families 
abroad,  he  might  have  made  good  use  in  the  carrying- 
out  of  his  comparison  of  Mr.  Parmenter's  position  to 
theiis),  and  found  in  it  matter  for  conversation  and 
compliment. 

"  That  fl:ig  is  a  groat  convenience.  I  had  a  little 
business,  and  I  knew  I  slxndd  find  you  at  home.  One 
of  your  neighbors,  sir,  with  wliom  I  was  talking  as  I 
came,  asked  me  wh;it  lliat  figure  was  on  it,     I  couldn't 


296  ANTONY  BRADE. 


tell  him.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask.  If  you 
were  a  druggist,  I  should  say  a  hand  and  a  pestle,  sir. 
Connected  with  '  Melitrech '  ?  A  very  good  device  (or 
whatever  it's  called)  :  '  Melitrech '  helped  to  build  the 
liouse,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No :  that  comes  from  a  different  source,"  said  Mr. 
Parmenter,  seriously.  "  My  relation  to  my,  neighbors 
—  and  the  town  —  and  Saint  Bartholomew's  School  — 
is  such  that  there  may  be  a  little  curiosity  to  know  some 
circumstances  about  my  family,  —  a  little  more  than 
just  '  he  lived  and  died! '  There  has  been  a  proposition 
to  secure  my  portrait  by  Rose,  the  eminent  artist,  for 
the  Town  Hall "  ("  I'm  not  surprised  at  it,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Don),  "  and,"  continued  Mr.  Parmenter,  "  I  suppose 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  yield  to  the  pressure,  ultimately. 
That's  the  result  generally,  I  believe,  in  such  cases.  I 
believe  we  generally  yield." 

This  plural  pronoun  which  he  turned  off  so  lightly 
might  represent  the  human  race  at  large,  or  that  upper 
rank  of  it,  —  the  heroic,  —  a  sight  of  whom  or  of  whoso 
photographs  so  many  long  to  see. 

"  I'm  ass«x*ed  that  the  name  is  of  some  note :  French, 
I  think,  in  very  early  times,  —  Parlementer.  You  see 
the  French,  — '  parley,' '  parlez-vous,' '  Parliament,' '  Par- 
menter.' Mr.  Merritt  knows  French,  and  has  taken 
some  trouble  about  it :  I  haven't  given  much  time  to 
those  things." 

Mr.  Don's  face  had  assumed  an  expression  of  good- 
natured  amusement,  which  gained  strength,  and  became 
more  and  more  pronounced,  as  the  speaker  went  on  ; 
but  when  Mr.  Parmenter  stopped,  and  looked  inquir- 
ingly at  liis  smiling  visitant,  Mr.  Don  hastened  to  re- 
move any  thought  of  incivility :  — 


MB.   BON  CALLS   ON  MB.   PABMENTEB.     297 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  was  thinking  you 
might  well  say  your  pennon  (if  that's  the  word)  was 
■aol  ^ pestle-lential ; '' ''"'  and  it  was  evident  that  it  was 
only  the  fun  of  this  joke,  within  him,  which  had  put 
him  into  such  merry  humor,  in  spite  of  himself. 

His  host  accepted  the  explanation,  pleasantly,  ex- 
plaining that  the  device  was  one  which  Dr.  Farwell 
had  found  in  a  book,  and  was  a  hand  flourishing  a 
scroll ;  and  this  gave  Mr.  Don  an  opportunity  to  use 
that  vein  of  ready  wit  and  compliment  which  is  seldom 
at  a  loss  in  this  world  :  — 

"  Every  thing  flourishes  with  you,  sir,  I  believe,"  said 
he. 

"  That  might  be  a  little  too  much  to  say,  perhaps," 
answered  Mr.  Parmenter,  modestly ;  and  here,  like  a 
man  of  business,  he  left  ofi"  his  dissertation  on  the 
probable  eminence  of  his  family,  among  the  early 
French,  and  turned  to  other  things  :  — 

"  Oh  !  I  see,"  he  said,  "  about  the  flag.  Yes :  I  didn't 
go  to  the  city.  I  was  contriving  a  little  improve- 
ment here."  ("  I  think  you're  never  satisfied  without 
perfection,"  said  Mr.  Don.)  "  I  want,"  continued  Mr. 
Pai'menter,  "  to  put  something  in  the  style  of  a  plat- 
form-balance here,  that  will  throw  up  a  draw-bridge, 
under  the  arch,  when  a  carriage  comes  upon  it."  ("  Very 
ingenious,  truly,"  said  Mr.  Don:  "we  can  always  learn 
something,  by  coming  up  to  Mount  Fairfield.")  "  Then, 
you  see,  with  my  draw-bridge  down,  anybody  can  walk 
across  from  one  side  to  the  other,  without  being  obliged 
to  touch  the  ground  at  all.  Then,  when  a  carriage 
drives  up,  it  comes  upon  the  platform ;  the  draw-bridge 
is  lifted  and  caught  by  a  self-acting  hold,  or  spring.  — 
"Walk  in,  sir,"  and,  leading  his  visitor  up  stone  steps 
13* 


298  ANTONY  BRADE. 

undei'  the  arcli-way,  he  ushered  that  polite  person,  who 
made  several  bows,  and  uttered  several  compliments, 
in  undergoing  the  treatment,  into  the  chief  door  of 
what  the  proprietor  called,  as  he  opened  it,  "  Fairfield 
House." 

''  It  wants  a  lady  of  the  manor,  sir,  does  it  not,  to 
make  it  complete?"  said  Mr.  Don,  modestly,  though 
possibly  not  for  the  first  time.  "  There  are  some 
charming  housekeepers,  I  understand,  in  Eastham,  and 
of  course  plenty  of  them  in  other  places.  I  did  hear 
that  Mrs.  Osborn  was  likely  to  be  the  favored  one." 

"  Perhaps  they  wouldn't  come,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
smiling  serenely  around  upon  the  furnishing  of  his 
house. 

"  I've  no  fear  of  that,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don.  "  You  have 
but  to  ask,  I  think."  Then,  without  impatience  to  press 
the  "  business "  which  he  had  mentioned,  he  left  the 
subject  of  a  lady  for  the  house.  "  I  believe,  sir,  I  never 
come  into  this  room  without  thinking  of  some  of  the 
apartments  in  the  noble  mansions  abroad.  This  was 
always  a  pai-ticular  favorite  of  mine,"  he  said,  setting 
himself  before  a  picture  on  the  wall,  in  which  was  a 
hooded  face,  with  a  good  deal  of  blue  and  some  dark- 
red  di'apery,  "  It  may  not  be  finer  than  many  others 
in  your  —  gallery,  I  call  it,  sir,  I  don't  know  Avhether 
I  am  technically  right,  —  but  there's  a  religious  repose, 
to  my  eye,  about  this  "  — 

"  That's  counted  very  fine,  sir ;  though  I  have  several 
as  fine,  or  finer,"  said  the  owner,  letting  his  eyes  wander 
ovei'  the  richly  framed  treasures  on  his  walls.  "  I  think 
I've  often  called  your  attention  to  this,"  waving  with 
his  hand,  and  leading  up  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  where 
heavy  silken  cords  and  tassels  were  arranged,  as  he 


MR.  DON  CALLS   ON  MB.   PARMENTER.     299 

showed,  to  draw  and  draw  back  a  heavy  silk-damask 
curtain,  so  as  to  let  in  more  or  less  light  upon  a  fresh- 
hued  painting  in  which  some  pretty  beings  —  nymphs, 
or  sylphs,  or  fairies,  —  merry  and  roguish-looking  — 
were  blowing,  with  fanciful  and  be-ribboned  bellows, 
on  rosebuds  and  buds  of  morning-glories,  which  were 
opening,  at  the  breath.  A  good  deal  of  really  life-like 
and  comely  drawing  and  coloring  had  been  put  into 
this  fanciful  extravagance. 

"  A  very  happy  conceit,  sir,  you  observe,  It's  called 
'  The  Blowing  of  the  Flowers.'  " 

"  And  yet  I  think  (if  you'll  allow  me,  sir)  you're  not 
conceited,^''  said  Mi'.  Don,  emphasizing  just  so  much, 
and  smiling  just  so  much  as  was  becoming  to  a  man 
who  felt  that  he  could,  and  wanted  others'to  feel  that 
he  could,  make  a  very  neat  joke  without  any  appear- 
ance of  effort.  "  I  have  often  admired  this  painting, 
sir.  I  think,  with  you,  that  it's  a  very  happy  conceit,  all 
but  the  word  'blowing,'  which  strikes  me  as  a  little 
ordinary.     Doesn't  it  strike  you  so  ?  " 

"Worcester,  sir,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
like  one  who  could  quote  authorities. 

"I  should  suppose  '■bloom''  was  the  more  elegant 
English,"  said  Mr.  Don,  like  one  who,  for  his  part,  had  a 
choice  in  such  things,  and  knew  how  to  use  our  tongue. 

"  It's  Worcester,  sir.  Mr.  Merritt  objected  a  little, 
too  ;  but  I  satisfied  him." 

Now  Mr.  Don  saw  a  favorable  opening  for  his  busi- 
ness, and  mentioned  it  again.  Mr.  Parmenter  accord- 
ingly l.ed  the  way  to  a  smaller  room,  which  he  pronounced 
to  be  his  '  Study.'  He  did  not,  however,  omit  to  say, 
as  he  passed  a  tall  rosewood  stand,  on  which,  in  the 
middle  of  a  purple-velvet  cushion,  lay  a  very  black  and 


300  ANTONY  BRADE. 

somewhat  odd-looking  fiddle.  "  This  is  probably  tho 
gem  of  my  collection,  —  a  genuine  Stradivarius,  — 
a  Cremona  of  the  sixteenth  century,  one  of  the  only 
five  known  to  exist  in  the  world." 

"  I'm  aware,  sir ;  but  it's  all  lost  upon  me,  I'm  sony 
to  say.  I've  no  music  in  my  soul,  sir.  Somehow,  it  was 
left  out.  —  The  business  on  which  I  came,"  continued 
Mr.  Don,  as  they  seated  themselves  near  a  large  desk  in 
Mr.  Parmenter's  "  study,"  in  the  presence  of  an  inkstand, 
a  broad,  open  dictionary,  an  illustrated  almanac,  a 
Prayer-book,  and  a  Bible,  which  gave  a  literary  cast  to 
the  room, "  is  partly  public,  and  partly  personal  to  your- 
self. —  You  mentioned,  if  you  remember,  the  custom  of 
having  some  public  recognition  of  those  who  have  made 
great  endowments ;  and  you  thought  it  might  be  as  well, 
in  your  case,  to  wait  for  the  future,  —  till  after  your  de- 
mise. I  found  myself  unable  to  agree  with  you,  sir ; 
and  the  more  I  have  reflected  on  it,  the  more  it  seems 
to  me  eminently  appropriate  that  it  should  be  done 
now^  The  living  example,  sir,  to  my  mind,  is  a  great 
thing ;  and  I  think  you  should  be  willing  to  waive  per- 
sonal feelings  for  the  sake  of  principle,  as  I  make  no 
doubt  you  would." 

"  I'll  do  any  thing  that's  thought  best,  if  I  approve 
of  it^  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  in  a  business-like  tone ;  and 
he  looked  into  the  blaze  of  the  fire.  Then  he  turned  to 
Mr.  Don,  with  a  smile,  and  added  :  — 

"  I  won't  do  any  thing  I  don't  approve  of" 

"  What  I  should  propose  —  and  I  think  it  would  meet 
the  views  of  the  other  Trustees  —  would  be  to  have  a 
celebration  by  the  School,  on  some  particular  day,  — 
your  birthday,  for  example  "  — 

Mr.  Parmenter  sat,  not  as  if  taken  by  surprise,  although 


MR.   DON  CALLS   ON  MR.   PARMENTER.     301 

it  seems  always  possible,  in  such  cases,  to  take  great 
men  by  surprise. 

"How  does  the  suggestion  strike  you,  sir?"  asked 
Mr.  Don,  after  waiting  for  some  expression. 

Mr.  Parmenter  left  his  abstraction. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  a  proposition  of  that  sort  will 
keep  ;  "  and  he  smiled  pleasantly.  "  There's  no  hurry 
about  doing  me  honor ; "  and  he  stroked  his  face  with 
his  broad  hand. 

Mr.  Don  was  not  to  be  easily  moved  from  his  purpose. 

"  That's  your  way  of  looking  at  it,  sir :  I  must  take 
leave  to  differ.  It  isn't  every  day  that  a  man  gives 
five  thousand  dollars  to  endow  tutorships  in  a  school, 
—  at  any  rate,  our  school  has  never  had  any  such  bene- 
factions. The  question  of  a  proper  name,  or  title,  has 
been  raised,"  he  went  on,  as  if  the  first  point  was  by 
this  time  pretty  well  disposed  of:  "  how  would  '  Patron ' 
do?" 

"  Oh,  no ! "  answered  Mr.  Parmenter,  decidedly  :  "  I 
shoiild  object  to  that  name,  as  unpopular  and  invid- 
ious." 

Mr.  Don  was  embarrassed,  but  not  long.  He  made 
another  proposition  :  — 

"  It's  i^roposed  to  call  that  fund  '  The  Sustentation 
Fund:'  how  would  ' Sustentator '  do?  A  little  too 
unusual?" 

"  Too  Latiny,  ain't  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Parmenter,  who 
occasionally  fell  to  plain  English.  "  How  do  you  spell 
it?"  and  he  drew  the  open  dictionary  to  himself. 
"  There  is  no  such  word  in  '  Worcester,' "  he  added, 
after  searching. 

"  An  idea  occurs  to  me,  which  might  need  further 
development,"  said  Mr.  Don,  by  no  means  at  the  end 


302  ANTONY  BRADE. 


of  his  resources.  "  We  have  an  American  word  — 
suggested  to  me  by  the  circumstances  of  your  posi- 
tion "  —  and  here,  sitting  up  straight,  and  looking  ear- 
nestly into  the  fire,  he  thought  vigorously. 

The  idea  was,  perhaps,  a  little  crude  as  yet;  for 
Mr.  Don's  active  mind  labored  with  it  in  silence  for 
a  moment,  and  then  put  it  forth  diffidently  :  — 

"  'Patroon'  was  the  word  which  I  bad  in  my  mind, 
sii".  Your  position,  here,  makes  it  natural.  A  patroon, 
as  I  understand  it,  is  the  chief  man  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  owns  most  of  the  land  there.  That  corre- 
sponds very  well  with  your  case,  sir,  I  think." 

"  We  never  had  any  thing  of  that  sort  in  this  part 
of  the  country,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  rising,  but  not  as 
if  he  must  absolutely  reject  it  on  that  score :  "  do  you 
think  it  would  go  down  ?  " 

"  I  put  it  forth  as  a  suggestion  :  we  can  take  it  into 
consideration,"  said  Mr.  Don,  rising  too  ;  "  and  I  shall 
feel  it  my  duty  to  bring  up  that  subject  of  a  demon- 
stration on  your  birthday,  at  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Trustees.  You  haven't  heard  any  thing  more,  I  sup- 
pose, about  our  mysterioiis  boy,  since  the  Stranger's 
visit,  the  other  day  ?  You  were  going  to  make  in- 
quiry at  Weston,  sir." 

"  Yes :  there  was  such  a  man  there,  with  a  letter. 
He'd  been  at  Wale,  Leavett,  &  Co.'s.  Mr. Wale  read  his 
letter ;  but  couldn't  recollect  his  name.  He  said  it  was 
some  sort  of  a  jaw-breaking  name"  — 

«  Has  he  got  the  letter?" 

"  No ;  and  he  can't  remember  who  it  was  from, 
whether  it  was  from  the  Governor,  or  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  or  President  of  the  Senate,  or  Speaker  of 
the  House,  or  who.  All  he  can  remember  is,  it  was 
from  some  '  big  bug,'  as  he  said." 


MR.   BON  CALLS   ON  MB.   PARMENTER.     303 

"  We  might  inquire  of  every  one  of  those,  if  it  was 
important ;  but  they  wouldn't  be  likely  to  remember." 

"  No,  sir ;  and  we  shouldn't  want  to  make  the  mat- 
ter too  public  by  pushing  it  too  hard,  I  wouldn't 
recommend  being  apathetic,  like  Rector  Warren,  —  he 
made  it  almost  a  personal  matter,  you  know,  sir, — 
but  I  think  we  can  afford  to  wait ; "  and,  after  this 
hopeful  forestahnent  of  the  future,  he  took  his  leave,  as 
courteously  as  he  had  entered. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE  BOSICBUCIANS. 

While  affairs,  in  the  busy  circle  of  the  boys  of  St. 
Bart's,  and  in  the  wise  counsels  of  its  Trustees,  were  in 
this  condition,  there  happened  something  to  give  a 
little  new  interest  to  the  every-day  life  of  the  School, 
and  concerning  Brade  and  some  of  his  friends. 

Secret  societies,  which  have  come  to  the  playing  of 
BO  important  a  part  in  many  of  our  colleges,  and  which 
have  found  their  way  into  some  schools,  were  forbidde  j 
here,  as  not  being  open  and  manly.  Perhaps  the 
Rector's  eye  and  the  practised  intelligence  of  tutors 
may  have  been  now  and  then  eluded  for  a  while,  and 
some  transient  and  timid  organizations  may  have  had 
two  or  three  stealthy  meetings,  at  long  intervals,  undis- 
covered ;  yet  every  thing  of  the  kind  was  pretty  thor- 
oughly put  out,  and  it  might  be  said  that  no  lasting 
combination  of  that  sort  existed  here. 

Of  this  halcyon  state  of  things  an  invasion  seemed 
now  to  be  threatened. 

A  certain  mysterious  handbill,  over  copies  of  which 
small  groups  of  boys  had  talked  and  wondered,  was  read 
by  several  tutors,  and  was  made  the  subject  of  a  little 
comment,  even  among  them.  It  was  a  printed  bit  of 
paper,  on  which  the  first  thing  to  draw  the  eye  was  a 
red  cross.    Above  this  were  the  letters  "  B.  R.  C,"  and 


THE  BOSICRUCIANS.  305 

underneath  it,  "  Rosicrucians.  —  This  Brotherhood  de- 
fends the  widows  and  fatherless,  provides  for  the  poor 
and  needy,  and  encourages  each  other.  —  No  initiation- 
fee  required.  One  black  ball  excludes  from  admission. 
—  Per  order  G.  M." 

These  —  though  not  arranged  as  on  that  paper  nor 
printed  in  the  same  type  —  were  the  contents  of  the 
handbill.  The  younger  boys  discussed  it,  when  first 
found,  as  it  was,  in  several  of  their  rooms,  remarking 
upon  the  cheapness  of  it,  and  "  where  they  got  money 
from,  to  do  all  their  works,  if  their  members  didn't  pay 
any  thing  ; "  and  so  dismissed  it.  It  appeared  again  ; 
and  then  the  boys,  having  ascertained  that  the  wording 
was  just  the  same,  and  the  printing  just  the  same, 
began  to  wonder  "  what  fellow  was  sticking  these 
things  about?"  Towne  applied  to  it  a  witticism  of 
his  own,  which  made  no  one  laugh  but  himself,  although 
it  was  about  as  good  as  the  average  of  boys'  jokes. 
"  The  Rosy-crutchers ! "  he  said :  "  who'll  be  a  rosy 
crutch?"  Wilkins  uttered  another,  about  as  good  as 
this:  he  called  the  name  "Rosy  Christians."  Sara 
Blake,  coming  along  while  several  boys  were  making 
their  comments  upon  it,  said  it  Avas  just  the  thing  that 
he  wanted;  for  he  "had  been  obliged  to  leave  a  dis- 
consolate widow  and  several  fatherless  children  behind 
him,  when  he  came  to  get  an  education,  and  he  wanted 
them  provided  for."  Peters,  though  he  read  the  paper, 
with  the  others,  made  no  comment ;  perhaps  because  of 
his  general  sympathy  with  chivalry.  Brade  had  as 
many  of  these  thrust  into  his  alcove  as  any  one. 

Night  after  night  these  things  found  their  way  into 
the  dormitories,  and  always  into  the  same  rooms,  one 
of  which  was  Brade's,  another  Remseu's,  and  another 


306  ANTONY  BBADE. 

Towne's.  Where  they  were  made,  or  how  they  were 
disti'ibuted,  no  boy  could  tell.  Several  printhig-presses 
were  owned  in  the  School,  and,  except  the  red  cross, 
more  than  one  of  them  was  competent  to  do  the  print- 
ing of  this  strange  bill;  but  then  none  of  these  presses 
had  done  the  work.  Of  course,  if  the  printers  had  put 
their  name  at  the  bottom  of  the  paper,  it  would  have 
been  a  simple  matter  to  read  it ;  but  no  such  help  to 
discovery  was  there.  There  was  the  name  "  liosicru- 
ciaus,"  and  there  were  the  letters  "  B.  R.  C."  and  "  G.  M ; " 
but  these  gave  no  information,  and  were,  in  themselves, 
mysterious. 

If  the  scattering  of  these  handbills  had  happened 
only  once,  all  interest  in  them  and  curiosity  about 
them  would  have  died  out  with  the  first  reading,  and 
with  the  application  to  them  of  the  usual  amount  of 
comment  and  discussion  and  witticism ;  but,  coming 
again  and  again,  as  they  did,  they  kept  discussion 
astir ;  and,  of  course,  the  Tutors  very  early,  and  in 
time  the  Rector,  became  aware  of  the  strange  fact. 
Meanwhile,  as  much  in  fun  as  in  earnest,  one  of  the 
base-ball  nines  called  itself  '  Rosicrucian,'  by  anticipa- 
tion of  the  next  season ;  beginning  so  early  in  order  to 
secure  the  name.  This,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  not 
of  the  older  boys,  for  they  had  attained  to  too  much 
gravity  and  dignity  to  apply  to  any  organization  of 
theirs  a  name  from  a  mei-e  transient  occasion;  but 
the  "  Rosicrucian  "  Nine  was  not  the  youngest,  nor  the 
worst  in  the  School ;  for  it  took  in  Brade  and  Remsen 
and  Hirsett,  and  Albert  Wadham  and  Towue,  and 
others  of  less  note.  Tarleton  had  been  in  it ;  but  had 
withdrawn,  on  finding  the  general  feeling  to  be  strong 
against  him,  and  Peters  half-filled  his  place. 


THE  ROSICBUCIANS.  307 

In  adopting  the  name,  the  Nine  adopted  the  device 
of  the  red  cross,  to  be  worked  upon  a  blue  lozenge,  or, 
as  they  called  it,  "  a  diamond,"  on  the  shirt-front. 

This  adoption  into  the  life  of  the  School  ought,  per- 
haps, to  have  satisfied  the  unwearied  originators  of  this 
handbill ;  and  it  showed  that,  whatever  unexplained 
mystery  there  might  be  about  it,  there  was,  at  least,  no 
apprehension  of  it,  or  scruple  about  meddling  with  it. 
Still,  at  short  intervals,  the  production  of  the  papers 
went  on,  and  there  was  added,  at  the  foot  of  them,  in 
print,  "  Seek  the  Association." 

"  Who  can  be  doing  it  ?  "  everybody  in  that  dormi- 
tory asked,  and  "  What's  it  for  ?  " 

When  the  new  words  appeared,  a  gathering  of  boys 
discussed  the  subject  in  Brade's  alcove,  three  of  his 
visitors  occupying  places  on  his  bed,  and  the  rest  sitting 
and  standing  as  they  might. 

"  It's  the  way  fellows  get  people  to  attend  to  'em," 
said  Tom  Hutchins, —  "by  keeping  on.  It's  the  way 
with  advertisements.  Why,  look  at  Parmenter!  Do 
you  suppose  anybody'd  ever  hear  of  Melitrech  and  that 
other  stuff  if  he  didn't  advertise  'em  ?  He  sends  thou- 
sands of  advertisements  away  out  West  (he  don't  care 
who  sees  'em  out  there),  and  puts  rhymes  to  'em. 
Blanchard  told  me  so.  '  A  man  out  West  Thought  he 
would  test  A  better  thing  than  honey :  He  drew  a  check 
For  Melitrech,  And  found  'twas  worth  the  money!' 
That's  the  way  he  does  it." 

"  You  made  that  up,  Tom  Hutchins,"  said  Towne, 
who  was  within  hearing. 

"  No,  I  didn't,  fact.  Blanchard  out  here  told  me. 
You  ask  him,  sometime.  He's  got  some  prettier  than 
that,  —  real   poetry.     I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he   kept 


308  ANTONY  BRABE. 

poets.  They're  poor,  and  don't  have  any  thing  to  eat. 
Look  here ! "  and  then  he  began  to  repeat,  " '  The 
south-west  wind '  "  — 

"  You've  got  it  wrong ! "  said  Blake,  as  Hutchins 
stopped.  "  Let  a  fellow  try  it,  that's  got  a  little  poetry 
in  him ; "  and,  having  sniffed,  as  if  he  were  drawing  in 
some  fragrance,  he  repeated,  in  a  dainty  voice :  — 

" '  Of  all  the  scents  that  load  the  air, 
Where'er  the  zephyr  blows, 
The  sweet  wind  leaves  the  others  there, 
And  bears  off  Aqua-rose.' " 

Blake  left  off,  with  his  face  and  eyes  lifted  up,  and 
his  right  hand  spread  aloft,  heedless  of  the  "Encores" 
which  greeted  this  recitation. 

"  Well,  but  what's  this  fellow  going  to  sell  ?  "  asked 
Leavitt.  "  He  hasn't  got  any  thing  to  sell,  unless  it's 
red  crosses." 

"  Well,"  said  Hutchins,  who,  as  we  know,  is  some- 
thing of  a  reasoner,  "  I  tell  you  this  chap's  got  deep 
thoughts.     He  wants  to  make  out  of  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  any  thing  but  trying  to  fool  us," 
said  Remsen.  "  What  do  you  say,  Brade  ?  Don't  you 
believe  it's  just  trying  to  fool  us  ?  " 

Brade  laughed :  "  We  haven't  got  any  widows  and 
orphans,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  we  have,  too,"  said  Alonzo  Peters,  in  an  awk- 
ward sort  of  way.  "  My  mother's  a  widow,  and  there 
are  ever  so  many  widows  and  orphans  in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  well !  "  said  Remsen,  "  the  orphans  are  to  take 
care  of  their  own  widows.  Everybody  hasn't  got  to 
take  care  of  all  the  widows  and  orphans." 

"  But  who's  going  to  look  after  the  orphans,  your 


THE  ROSICRUCIANS.  309 

way,  Remsen  ?  "  asked  Tom  Hutchins,  who  has  encoun- 
tered Remsen  before. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Peters,  fortified  by  this  unlooked- 
for  support,  "  i^eople  have  got  to  join  together,  to  look 
after  'em,  and  the  poor :  the  Church  is  for  that." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Towne,  taking  from  his  mouth, 
and  holding  like  a  cigar,  a  bat,  which  he  was  pretend- 
ing to  smoke,  "  you're  wandering  from  the  subject. 
What's  this  fellow  printing  these  things  and  putting 
'em  in  here  for  ?  " 

"Oh!  it's  &ov[\Q  fellow  that's  doing  it,  of  course,"  said 
Remsen,  giving,  as  the  Chinese  do,  by  his  emphasis,  an 
entirely  different  meaning  to  the  word  emphasized. 

"  If  we  don't  take  any  notice  of  it,  he  won't  do  it,  — 
you  see  if  he  does,"  said  Hutchins.  "'Tain't  worth 
making  a  fuss  over,  any  how." 

To  this  they  generally  agreed,  and  dropped  the  sub- 
ject. In  the  School  at  large,  it  was  not  talked  of, 
now. 

A  night  or  two  passed  by,  and  then  the  printed  things 
appeared  in  a  new  guise,  in  the  same  rooms  as  before. 
This  time,  there  was  a  triplet  printed  below,  in  which 
"land,"  "holy  band,"  and  "heroes  stand"  rhymed 
together,  as  well  as  they  rhyme  in  high  verse  like 
"  Hail  Columbia ;  "  perhaps  caught  from  that  fountain, 
perhaps  original  with  the  author,  or  some  one  else. 

As  this  came  soon  after  the  talk  of  the  different 
visitoi's  in  Brade's  room,  and  Tom  Hutchins's  rhyme, 
quoted  from  Mr.  Parmenter,  had  not  yet  been  forgotten, 
and  as  this  doggerel  appeared  so  soon  after,  the  boys 
began  to  say  that  it  was  a  joke  of  Hutchins's,  and  not  a 
very  bright  one.  Hutchins  denied  it,  entirely,  and  said 
"  they  must  not  put  such  stupid  stuff  on  him  :  if  he  was 


310  ANTONY  BRADE. 


going  to  make  any  thing,  he'd  make  souicthing  better 
than  that." 

The  mystery,  therefore,  such  as  it  was,  had  kept  itself 
mysterious,  up  to  this  point.  Here  a  sort  of  jog  was 
given  to  it,  which  changed  the  condition  of  things. 

There  had  been  a  foot-ball  match  between  the  Great 
Middle  Class,  as  the  Third  proudly  and  facetiously 
called  themselves,  with  the  Fifth,  on  one  side,  and  the 
rest  of  the  School  on  the  other.  Towne  had  kicked 
hard  enough  for  any  three :  every  one  had  done  his 
best.  Once  Brade  had  run  the  ball  up  among  every- 
body, till  Russell  got  a  chance  at  it,  and  followed  it 
nearly  out,  when  Lamson  had  gone  at  it  and  kept  it,  in 
such  a  way  that  he  ran  it  all  the  way  down  again. 
Gaston  had  done  wonders ;  Wadham,  the  elder,  had 
distinguished  himself;  Burgess  had  done  as  well  as 
ever ;  Peters  had  run  the  risk  of  personal  harm,  in  an 
astonishing  way.  Hutchins,  Remsen,  —  who  had  not 
done  honor  to  themselves,  and  worked  hard  for  the 
victory  ? 

In  short,  the  field  was  manfully  contested ;  and  all 
who  were  engaged  got  hot,  and  pretty  tired,  when  at 
last  the  challengers  (the  Third)  with  their  allies,  the 
Fifth,  came  out  the  conquerors  by  two  out  of  three. 
Gaston  and  Hutchins  happened  to  leave  the  ground 
together,  and  happened  to  be  followed  by  Brade,  whom 
Peters  joined  himself  to.  It  was  not  yet  late,  and  the 
gi-eater  part  of  the  boys  stayed  where  they  were,  for 
more  play. 

Gaston  and  Hutchins  had  taken  a  short  run,  to  try 
their  speed,  and  so  had  got  a  good  way  ahead.  They 
reached  the  house,  while  still  the  other  two  were  so  far 
oJ0f  that  Peters's  voice  could  not  be  perfectly  heard,  as 


TEE  ROSICRUCIANS.  311 

he  discussed  the  varied  fortunes  of  the  afternoon. 
Ah-eady,  though  it  was  not  dark  out  doors,  some  himps 
were  burning  in  the  house,  and  as  they  stopped  not  far 
from  the  back-kitchen  door,  which  stood  ajar,  and  in- 
dulged their  curiosity  by  looking  in,  as  they  passed, 
they  saw  the  cook,  to  be  sure,  in  the  inner  room,  and 
other  women,  too;  but  they  saw  something  nearer, 
which  drew  all  their  eyes. 

"  Ain't  he  too  handsome  to  be  lying  there  ?  "  asked 
Gaston. 

Now,  though  the  reader  may  be  too  old  and  wise  to 
care,  or  may  be  impatient  to  see  the  connection  of  all 
this  with  the  Rosicrucians,  we  must  linger  a  moment 
here.  This  beauty,  which  delighted  the  clever  Gaston,  lay 
not  in  wholeness,  nor  in  symmetry ;  for  that  which  had 
been  a  full-fleshed,  evenly  browned  bird  of  the  mid-day 
board  had  been  impaired  a  good  deal  in  his  integrity. 
Much  of  his  mighty  breast  had  been  cut  off,  and  one  of 
his  stalwart  thighs.  A  broad,  steep-sloping  smooth  of 
white  stretched  down  from  his  breast-bone  —  which  Gas- 
ton, learned  fellow,  while  he  stood  there,  with  grinning 
face  and  watering  mouth,  twice  told  Hutchins  was  his 
*'  sternum  "  —  under  his  strong  pinion.  About  a  fourth 
part  as  much  of  a  gray,  mottled  substance  stretched 
out,  in  like  unbroken  smoothness,  beyond  this  white, 
to  where  the  neck,  cut  off,  bounded  the  view.  Under 
the  pinion,  squeezed  against  his  breast,  —  "  the  Avay  a 
fellow  carries  a  book,"  as  the  bookish  Gaston  reminded 
Hutchins,  Avho,  all  this  short  while,  was  talking  only 
with  his  eager  eyes,  —  was  a  stout  gizzard.  Such  was 
this  sight ;  and  in  such  a  state  of  incompleteness  was 
this  once-splendid  roasted  bird,  when  seen  by  these 
two  hot  and  hungry  boys. 


312  ANTONY  BBADE. 

"  There !  "  said  Gaston,  who  could  not  keep  his  learn- 
ing down,  and  who,  perhaps,  having  nothing  better  to 
do,  thought  he  could  wear  away  a  little  time,  while 
still  enjoying,  with  the  sight,  a  feast  on  which  his  more 
substantial  senses  were  forbidden  to  make  inroad, 
"there!  that  stuffing — just  that  sort  of  mixture  of 
colors  —  is  what  the  Greeks  called  '  TtoixO.og  '  (poikil'os). 
It's  a  sort  of"  — 

"  I  should  like  to  try  whether  it  would  '  kill  w«,'  I 
know,"  said  Hutchins,  for  the  first  time  breaking  silence, 
and  not  only  taking  patiently  his  companion's  learning, 
but  taking  the  trouble  to  make  a  play  of  words  on  what 
he  said.  "  Well,  it's  no  good  standing  here :  it  only 
makes  a  fellow  hungrier  and  hungrier." 

Gaston,  however,  was  not  so  minded. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute ! "  he  said.  "  Let's  show  it  to 
these  other  fellows." 

Upon  the  word,  the  other  boys  drew  near,  of  whom 
the  fantastic  Peters  was  the  most  heard,  discoursing  of 
the  doughty  deeds  that  had  been  done  that  day. 

"  Somehow,"  he  was  then  just  saying,  "  you  don't  care 
when  you  get  into  it,  do  you?" 

Gaston  nudged  his  companion,  and  repeated  aside  his 
request :  "  Hold  on,  now,  Hutchins  !  " 

"  We're  waiting  for  you  fellows,"  he  said  to  Brade 
and  Peters,  as  soon  as  they  were  near  enough  to  hear 
him  in  his  common  voice.  "  Now's  your  chance !  You 
haven't  been  in,  yet.  That's  for  the  conquerors," 
(Peters  and  Brade,  as  the  reader  knows,  were  both 
Third-formers,  while  Gaston  and  Hutchins  were  of  the 
Fourth),  and,  drawing  back,  he  left  room  for  them  to 
come  between  him  and  the  coveted  sight. 

"  What    do    you    mean  ? "    asked    Peters,    looking 


THE  R0S1CRUCIAN8.  313 

throLigli  tlie  cliink  of  the  partly  open  door,  and  seeing, 
of  course,  that  dahity  dish  which  stood  uj)on  the  table. 
«  Tliat  ain't  for  us  ?  " 

"  TFe  didn't  open  the  door,  really :  did  we,  Hutchins?" 
said  Gaston.  "  They  opened  it,  Now,  you've  just  got 
to  go  right  in,  and  ask  for  your  share.  There's  Mrs. 
Porter ;  and  there's  Christina :  they're  all  there,  ready 
to  wait  on  you." 

Brade,  whether  through  wisdom  and  wariness,  or 
whether  because  he  happened,  at  the  moment,  not  to 
have  what  healthy  boys  are  hardly  ever  without,  all 
appetite  at  any  time,  for  any  good  thing,  and  for  almost 
any  amount  of  it,  said  that  "  he  was  not  hungry,  and 
did  not  want  any  thing." 

This  statement  Gaston  treated  with  contempt. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  man  !  '* 
he  said.  "  Look  there  !  "  and  then  poured  forth  a 
polyglot  profusion  of  exclamations,  as  "  En  tibi !  i^ov  ! 
Voila !  There  you  have  it ! "  and  he  pointed  to  the 
turkey. 

Brade  still  declined ;  but  Peters  said  "  he  guessed 
that  he'd  go  in :  he  felt  pretty  hungry,  for  they'd 
worked  hard." 

"  That's  sensible ! "  said  Gaston.  "  I  wish  I  had  your 
chance.  Only  be  quick!  There  isn't  much  gone  yet; 
but  there'll  be  plenty  of  fellows  here,  before  long ; "  and 
he  looked  up  the  road  that  led  by  the  gymnasium  to 
the  play-ground. 

"  Come,  Brade  ! "  said  Peters,  not  stirring  yet :  "  you 
come  Avith  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

Fqr  some  reason  or  other,  this  seemed  not  to  be 
according  to  Gaston's  plan. 
14 


314  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Before  Brade  could  answer,  Gaston  "  took  the  word," 
as  Frenchmen  say. 

"  He'll  come  right  in  :  she  likes  one  at  a  time  best.  I 
want  to  ask  Brade  a  question." 

So,  pushing  Hutchins  to  one  side,  and  drawing  Brade 
by  the  button  to  the  other,  while  the  often-abstracted 
Peters  seemed  about  lifting  his  foot  to  enter,  Gaston 
addressed  his  captive  thus :  — 

"  Look  here !  What  do  you  suppose  '  turkey '  is  in 
Latin  ? "  (Peters  still  lingered,  but  with  his  queer 
^es  fixed  hard  at  the  temptation :  "  Go  on,  Peters ! 
don't  be  too  long ! "  said  Gaston,  by  way  of  parenthe- 
sis.) "  Don't  you  suppose  "  (to  Brade,  again)  "  they 
had  a"  — 

"But  they  didn't  know  about  turkey,"  said  Brade. 
« It's  a  new  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  The  Romans  must  have  known  !  "  said  Hutchins. 
"  The  Turks  are  a  big  people." 

"  Don't  you  suppose,"  Gaston  continued,  without 
changing  the  character  of  his  sentence,  "  they  had  a 
•word  'dindo'?  You  know  the  French  —  (Rush  in, 
Peters  !  )  "  Gaston's  voice  trembled  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  occasion.  Then  to  Brade,  again :  "  It 
sounds  like  Greek  ///v"  (din — ).  Peters  was  slowly, 
and  with  a  veiy  uncertain  hand,  opening  the  door  a 
little,  when  the  cook,  whose  ears  were  good,  looked 
toward  them,  and  Peters  started  ;  the  other  boys  keep- 
ing themselves  out  of  sight,  at  each  side. 

Peters  went,  with  his  usual  wavering  and  unsteady 
step,  across  the  floor  of  the  back  kitchen,  and  presented 
himself,  awkward  and  hesitating,  to  the  authorities  of 
the  inner  room. 


THE  ROSICRUCIANS.  315 

Peters  began  to  speak,  and  immediately  there  was  a 
laugh  of  scorn  from  within. 

"  I  won't  leave  him,"  said  Brade. 

"  No,"  said  Gaston,  whose  plan  now  seemed  to  admit 
of  a  change.  "Go  in  and  bring  old  Peters  off!"  and 
he  made  way,  and  Brade  went  in.  "Now,  Hutchins!  " 
said  the  chief  speaker  :  "  there's  a  towel !  " 

Brade  went  in  to  the  relief  of  the  undaunted 
Peters,  and  found,  when  he  got  to  his  side,  that  that 
boy  had  not  succeeded.  The  cook  was  just  saying,  with 
the  utmost  do^Vnrightness,  to  the  applicant,  "  that  it 
would  be  a  pretty  thing  for  her  to  be  giving  a  bit  of 
turkey  to  every  boy  that  played  foot-ball ; "  and  one 
of  those  attendant  women,  who  Avere  to  have  been  so 
ready  to  help  in  the  distribution  of  the  reward  to  the 
conquerors,  craftily  advised  that  "  the  turkey  should  be 
looked  after,  where  it  was."  Things  therefore  gave 
little  hope  of  rewards  to  the  strenuous  victors  from  the 
play-ground. 

The  cook  sent  an  assistant  to  bring  the  great  fowl 
in,  and  to  begin  cutting  slices  for  the  table  ;  and  Brade 
and  Peters  turned  to  go  from  the  fruitless  errand, 
wlien  suddenly  there  rose  a  cry  from  the  assistant  that 
"  the  turkey  was  gone !  there  wasn't  sight  nor  sign  of 
it!" 

Then  was  there  running  and  crying  out,  among  the 
maid-servants  of  St.  B.irtholomew's  School ;  and,  as 
may  be  supposed,  the  two  members  of  the  victorious 
Third  were  given  to  um^.erstand,  in  very  plain  English, 
that  their  room  was  bettor  than  their  company ;  that 
''the  Rector  would  find  it  out,  and  then  they'd  have  to 
take  their  deserts;  that  if  boys  went  on  in  this  way, 
there  would  be  no  living  at  St.  Bart's  ; "  and  as  much 


316  ANTONY  BRADE. 

more  of  wise  thought  and  earnest  exhortation,  as  half 
a  dozen  excited  and  indignant  women  could  put  into 
words  in  the  space  of  a  minute. 

It  was  to  no  purpose,  of  course,  that  Peters  rather 
indignantly  denied  any  business  but  just  the  honest  one 
of  asking  for  a  bit  of  turkey ;  and  said  that  he  had  not 
got  even  that.  All  eyes,  his  own  included,  although 
they  were  diiferent  from  other  people's,  could  see  that 
where  a  turkey  had  been  was  nothing  now  but  a  large 
empty  dish,  on  which  were  a  very  few  and  slight,  how- 
ever savory-looking,  traces  of  the  great  roasted  bird 
which  a  boy  could  not  look  at  without  M'anting. 

Brade  assured  the  cook  that  "  Peters  was  perfectly 
innocent,  and  that  he  himself  had  only  come  in  to  keep 
Peters  company,  for  he  did  not  want  any  turkey." 

The  cook's  answer  to  all  this  was,  "  Of  course  not ; 
what  would  he  want  turkey  for?  Boys  didn't  eat  tur- 
key, —  oh,  no ! "  and  another  less  angry,  but  not  less 
indignant  female  explained  that  "  these  two  were  only 
blinds ;  and,  while  they  were  talking,  others  were  car- 
rying olF  the  fowl.     That  was  the  way  of  it." 

Brade's  face,  as  we  know,  was  a  very  sympathetic 
and  communicative  one ;  and  at  this  explanation  it 
went  through  sudden  conscious  changes.  He  had  too 
much  presence  of  mind  to  call  out  to  their  late  com- 
rades at  the  door ;  and,  after  insisting  upon  giving  his 
word  that  they  knew  nothing  about  it,  he  hurried  away 
the  unpractical  Peters,  who  wished  to  stay  and  clear 
himself,  and  got  him  out  of  the  door. 

Strangely  enough,  their  troubles  seemed  only  to  have 
begun  within  the  house ;  they  went  on  worse,  as  soon 
as  the  boys  set  their  disappointed  and  indignant  feet 
upon  the  gi'eat  earth  that  holds  up  every  thing. 


THE  BOSIGRUCIANS.  31T 

Just  by  the  door,  apparently  attracted  by  the  tur- 
moil, were  Tutors  Bruce  and  Hammersley,  who  had  been 
down  at  the  play-ground  when  the  match  was  played 
Gaston  and  ITutchins  were  no  longer  to  be  seen. 

The  women,  who  had  been  so  hard  when  talking  to 
the  boys  about  the  punishment  that  they  deserved,  now, 
when  they  saw  the  Tutors,  drew  in,  or  threw  away,  a 
good  share  of  their  hardness.  "The  turkey  was  gone," 
they  said  ;  "  and  it  had  been  stolen.  Orders  had  come, 
express  from  the  Rector,  to  have  some  for  the  boys' 
supper,  and  it  had  been  standing  right  there,  upon  that 
dish,  in  open  sight.  The  cook  had  seen  it,  and  Chris- 
tina had  seen  it ;  anybody  might  see  it,  up  to  the  time 
these  boys  came  in,  five  minutes  ago,  or  less  than  that. 
Then  these  came  in,  asking  for  a  bit,  because  they'd 
beat  the  foot-ball,  and  while  they  were  standing  there 
the  bird  was  gone,  — just  the  way  it  was  then  ;"  and 
here  two  of  the  speakers  pointed  to  the  sad  emptiness 
of  the  dish  ;  and  one,  to  make  the  expression  stronger, 
took  the  goodly-sized  and  shapely  piece  of  stone-china 
between  her  two  hands,  and  showed  how  light  and  how 
utterly  empty  it  then  was.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the 
cook  and  her  chief  associates  that  "  the  Rector  ought 
to  know  how  high-handed  the  boys  were  getting." 

The  Tutors,  without  expressing  any  opinion,  set  wp  a 
preliminary  court  of  inquiry  on  the  spot;  and  the  two 
boys  told  their  story,  leaving  out.  of  course,  all  other 
names  than  those  of  one  another.  Peters  came  nearest 
to  mentioning  a  third  party,  when  he  said  that  "they 
told  him  that  any  of  the  Third  and  Fifth  could  have 
some  turkey,  by  only  going  in  and  asking  for  it.  That 
was  all  he  did :  he  just  asked  civilly,  and  they  told  him 
he  could  not  have  any."     The  reader  knows  the  story. 


318  ANTONY  BBADE. 

"  If  boys  tell  you,  up  and  down,  a  thing,  you  must 
believe  'em,"  said  Peters. 

"  It  ought  to  be  so,"  said  the  Tutors.  "  Did  you  be- 
lieve them,  too,  Brade  ?  " 

"I  didn't  ask  for  any,  sir,"  said  Brade.  "I  didn't 
want  any.  The  girls  were  all  laughing  at  Peters,  and 
so  I  went  in,  to  stand  by  him  and  bring  him  out." 

This  story  furnished  a  very  imperfect  explanation  of 
the  turkey's  disappearance,  for  it  left  that  point  un- 
touched :  it  accounted  for  the  doing  of  these  two  boys, 
supposing  it  to  be  true  ;  and  a  boy's  word,  at  St.  Bart's 
School,  was  always  taken  to  be  true,  unless  overwhelm- 
ingly contradicted,  which  seldom  happened. 

So  Brade  and  Peters,  coming  home  as  victors  from 
the  well-fought  field,  are  caught  suddenly  in  unsuspected 
toils.  They  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  carrying  off 
of  the  turkey :  they  can  fxncy  how  it  went,  but  cannot 
open  their  mouths,  except  to  assert  their  own  inno- 
cence. 

The  Tutors  go  in  before  them,  and  Mr.  Bruce  turns 
off  (as  the  boys  can  easily  understand),  to  report  to  the 
Caput.  • 

"  Well,  don't  let's  tell  Gaston  and  Hutchins  about 
the  Tutors,"  said  Peters.  "  It'll  serve  'em  right,  for 
playing  us  such  a  trick." 

To  this  Brade  readily  agreed,  laughing  at  the  pros- 
pect ;  but  soothing  his  aggrieved  companion  with  the 
assurance  that  "  those  boys  did  not  mean  to  get  them 
into  trouble  " 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE    TURKEY  FOUND,  BUT  NOT  THE   SECRET 
SOCIETY. 

Mr.  Bruce  went  straight  to  the  Rector's  study,  and, 
being,  admitted,  found  Mr.  Wilson,  the  Head-Tutor, 
ah-eady  there. 

"  Something  more  about  the  Rosicrucians  ?  "  asked 
the  Rector.  "  Mr.  Wilson  has  just  brought  one  bit  of 
information,"  and  he  handed  to  the  last-comer  one  of 
the  now  long-familiar  cards  of  the  "  B.  R.  C."  and  the 
Red  Cross. 

"  Turn  it  over,"  said  Mr.  Wilson  to  his  brother-tutor ; 
and  on  the  back  appeared  "  Coena  Lux.  Reg.  ap.  Hoi. 
XXIV.     Hor.  8J,  Hod." 

"  It  would  be  astonishing,"  said  the  Rector,  "  if  a 
secret  society,  with  feasting,  could  have  been  going  on 
under  our  noses,  and  with  our  leading  scholar  in  it. 
I'm  told  that  Gaston  calls  his  room  '  Holworthy  24,' 
after  his  brother's  in  college ;  and  this  looks  like  a  noti- 
fication to  supper,  there,  to-night." 

"  And  there  are  only  two  boys  in  School  that  use 
Greek  or  Latin  that  way,  —  Gaston  and  Brade,"  added 
Mr.  Bruce. 

"  Our  two  philologists ! "  said  the  Rector,  with  a  shake 
of  the  head. 

"And  I've  got  something  about  Brade,"  said  Mr. 
Bruce. 


320  ANTONY  BRADE. 


The  Rector  looked  rather  bl^nk  at  this  announce- 
ment, as  if  the  clouds  Avere  unexpectedly  thickening ; 
and  Mr,  Bruce  proceeded  to  tell  his  story  about  the 
pillage  of  the  lordly  turkey,  during  Brade's  and  Peters's 
visit  to  the  kitchen. 

"  There's  something  much  wholesomer  in  it,  from  its 
all  being  under  our  own  roof,  at  least,"  said  the  Rector. 
"Then  Brade  and  Peters  say  that  they  went  in  to 
ask?" 

Mr.  Bruce  explained  their  story,  that  Peters  went  in, 
because  he  was  told  that  he  might,  and  Brade  to  bring 
off  Peters. 

"  Then  you'll  accept  this  invitation,"  said  the  Rector 
to  Mr.  Wilson,  "  (it's  at  First  Bed-time)  and  we'll  wait 
for  further  developments.  They'd  better  be  allowed 
about  three  minutes  to  get  comfortably  together ;  but 
not  more,  for  they'll  be  quick." 

This  arrangement  having  been  made,  the  council 
broke  up. 

At  tea,  Gaston  and  Hutchins,  whom  the  reader  will 
remember  to  have  been  at  the  back-kitchen  door  while 
the  turkey  lay  on  the  dish,  ate  their  supper  like  other 
boys ;  and  certainly,  if  they  had  any  consciousness  of 
a  coming  feast,  they  did  not,  by  way  of  preparation, 
spare  the  sliced  turkey  on  the  table. 

After  tea  Gaston  and  Hutchins  used  the  few  minutes 
of  free  time  as  industriously  in  play  as  any  of  the  boys. 
School  went  in,  and  time  went  on,  to  first  bed-time. 
Then  Gaston  and  Hutchins  went  quietly  out  with  the 
lower-form  boys. 

There  was  no  disorder  in  entry  or  room  :  the  yoimger 
fellows  had  their  own  subjects  of  conversation,  among 
which,  as  may  be  supposed,  Brade's  adventure  with 


THE   TURKEY  FOUND,  ETC.  321 

Peters,  and  its  probable  consequences  were  discussed, 
with  much  prudence  about  pronouncing  any  other 
names  than  those  of  the  two. 

Among  the  rooms  of  hirger  boys  all  was  quiet ;  and 
about  Gaston's  room,  or  "  Holworthy  24,"  all  was  par- 
ticularly still. 

Within  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Wilson  quietly  made  his 
appearance  in  the  passage-way ;  and  then,  if  any  heads 
had  before  been  appearing  now  and  then  at  doorways, 
if  any  occasional  missile  had  before  been  hurled  now 
and  then  from  one  room  to  another,  all  sight  and 
almost  all  sound  of  boyish  life  was  gone. 

In  this  state  of  things,  the  Head  Tutor  walked 
silently  straight  to  Gaston's  door,  and  without  for- 
mality entered.  Two  lamps  were  burning  on  the 
bureau  ;  but,  by  a  contrivance  familiar  to  boys,  the 
unusual  light  was  hindered  from  making  a  more  than 
usual  show  by  barricades  of  books. 

Four  boys  —  Gaston  and  Hutchins  and  Towne  and 
"  Ultimatum  "  Blake  —  were  standing  with  their  backs 
toward  the  door,  or  rather  with  all  their  faces  toward 
the  well-lighted  top  of  the  bureau.  Towne  had  "  got 
himself  up  "  in  what  he  perhaps  considered  a  holiday 
rig ;  for  not  only  was  his  hat  turned  inside  out,  as  we 
have  seen  it  before,  but  he  had  managed  to  put  on  his 
coat  upside  down,  with  the  tails  falling  like  a  cape  down 
his  back.  Hutchins  and  Blake  were  in  their  usual 
dress,  —  Blake  at  one  end,  where  half  of  his  face  could 
be  seen  drawn  into  a  very  comical  expression,  but 
intensely  silent,  and  with  his  eyes  fastened  unwaver- 
ingly. Gaston  had  on  what  may  have  been  meant  for 
a  priestly  garb  from  old  Rome.  His  chief  garment  was 
a  sheet  fastened  about  his  neck  and  trailing  to  the 
14*  u 


322  ANTONY  BRADE. 

ground,  except  where  one  foot,  in  a  stocking,  wasthrust 
out  behind.  About  his  head  he  had  a  band  of  twisted 
cotton-batting,  and  round  that  a  purple  neck-tie  whose 
ends  hung  down  at  the  back.  His  face  could  be  seen 
in  the  looking-glass  which  hung  over  the  chest  of 
drawers ;  and  it  was  ovei-flowing  with  satisfaction.  The 
glass  also  showed,  what  the  shoulders  of  the  boys 
otherwise  hid,  the  ample  remains  of  a  huge  roasted 
turkey. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Gaston  was  saying,  in  a  voice  narrowed 
down  to  the  necessity  of  the  case,  "  I  bid  you  welcome 
to  this  auspicious  feast !  Under  the  nose  of  Wilson, 
most  vigilant  of  observers ;  between  the  hands,  as  you 
may  say,"  of  Bruce,  most  sagacious  of  tutors,  per  tela^ 
per  hostes,  have  I,  with  the  helj)  of  Hutchins,  borne 
this  bird.  Time  fails.  Draw  swords,  and  march  into 
the  beast,  as  I  do ! "  and  thereupon  he  cut  a  thick 
slice  of  breast  and  stuffing,  and  three  knives  more 
assailed  the  savory  meat. 

There  was  a  hurried  noise  of  cutting,  with  a  glad 
murmur  of  voices  and  then  a  general  munching  of  the 
festive  viands,  all  in  a  moment,  when  a  new  voice  was 
heard :  — 

"  I've  come  upon  this  invitation,"  said  Mr.  Wilson, 
showing  the  card,  while,  before  he  had  spoken  three 
words,  the  four  feasters  had  faced  about  to  any  quarter 
but  toward  the  bureau.  Gaston,  whose  eyes  had  taken 
in  the  card  and  the  Tutor  at  once,  still  kept  a  good 
deal  of  the  merriment  in  his  face,  with  his  cheeks  stuifed 
full  of  turkey.  Blake  increased  the  drollery  of  his  look 
at  this  unexpected  diversion.  In  one  hand  stretched 
out,  he  held  his  knife;  in  another  a  large  piece  of  un- 
bitten  flesh  from  the  great  fowl. 


THE   TURKEY  FOUND,  ETC.  323 

"I'm  authorized  to  invite  the  whole  company  to  the 
Rector's  study,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  "  with  the  turkey. 
Gaston,  you'll  lead,  with  the  turkey  in  the  napkin ;  and 
all  of  you  follow,  just  as  you  are.  I'll  come  behind, 
with  one  of  these  lights." 

In  this  order,  therefore,  the  procession  set  forth; 
all  but  Gaston  following  Blake's  example,  in  eating 
most  diligently  as  they  went.  Gaston's  hands  were 
so  occupied  with  the  larger  burden  that  he  was  de- 
nied that  comfort.  Towne,  having  a  leg  and  drum- 
stick, could  hardly  hope,  even  with  the  most  frantic 
efforts,  to  make  his  bit  much  less  conspicuous  by  the 
time  he  reached  the  Rector's  presence. 

A  strange-looking  company  they  were ;  but  the  Rec- 
tor maintained  his  gravity. 

"  So  these  are  some  of  our  Rosicrucians,  are  they  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  And  who's  the  head  of  your  society  ? 
You,  Gaston  ?  " 

"  There's  no  society,  sir,"  said  Gaston.  "  I  happened 
to  have  a  turkey  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  history  of  the  turkey,"  said  the 
Rector.  "  First  explain  that  card,"  —  pointing  to  it 
in  Mr.  Wilson's  hand.  —  "  Put  all  your  bits  of  turkey 
here,"  he  added,  spreading  several  thicknesses  of  news- 
papers on  the  floor,  on  which  they  all  made  their 
deposits.  "Now,  Gaston,  explain  that  card,  if  you 
please." 

"  This  side  of  it  is  my  side,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  don't 
know  any  thing  about  the  other.  This  is  just  one  that 
I  picked  up." 

"  Read  and  explain  your  own  side,  then,"  said  the 
Rector ;  and  Gaston  read  and  explained,  a  little  awk- 
wardly :  — 


824  ANTONY  BRADE. 

" '  Ccena  regalis  luxus,  aj^ucl  Holworthy  Viginti- 
quatuor,  hora  octava  et  dimidia,  hodie,' — a  supper  of 
royal  luxury,  at  Holworthy  24,  at  eight-and-a-half 
o'clock,  to-day." 

Amid  the  discomfiture  of  the  feasters,  this  glowing 
announcement  fell  absurdly. 

"  Now  for  the  other  side  of  the  card,  —  this  stuff 
about  the  Rosicrucians,  —  who  can  explain  it?" 

Here  Blake  spoke  :  — 

"  Nobody  knows  any  thing  about  that,  sir.  That's  a 
sort  of  ghost :  none  of  the  fellows  know  any  thing 
about  it," 

"  None  of  you  know  any  thing  about  it  ?  "  asked  the 
Rector. 

To  this  question  all  gave  so  definite  and  evidently 
honest  an  answer  in  the  negative  as  to  make  it  clear 
that  Gaston's  entertainment  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  Rosicrucians  or  any  other  secret  society,  and  that 
the  "  B.  R.  C."  and  the  Red  Cross  were  as  much  mys- 
teries as  ever. 

The  boys  looked  down  at  the  booty  on  the  floor. 

"  A  liking  for  turkey's  not  a  bad  taste,  Edward," 
gaid  the  Rector ;  "  but  a  liking  for  turkey  that  isn't 
yours  is." 

*' Blake  and  Towne  hadn't  any  thing  to  do  with 
getting  the  turkey,"'  said  Gaston ;  "  and  Brade  and 
Peters.  They  didn't  know  any  thing  about  it.  —  I 
don't  believe  they  do  yet,"  he  added,  smiling  at  the 
thought. 

But  the  end  was  come. 

The  little  company  of  revellers  was  dealt  with,  first 
of  all,  by  ordering  them,  just  as  they  were,  down  to 
the  kitchei^,  to  restore  their  stolen  food.  Their  proper 
punishment  was  to  come  in  due  course  the  next  day. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

MR.   PAEMENTER  MORE    THAN  EVER  ACTIVE. 

People  with  a  strong  turn  for  being  busy  have  their 
times  and  seasons,  like  other  tilings  and  beings,  and 
sometimes  are  stirred  up  to  special  busyness.  Our  Mr. 
Parmenter  had  his  busier  times.  If  we  might  use  a 
poetical  figure  about  a  man  who  was  not  poetical,  we 
should  say  that  that  strong  sea-swell  which  had  floated 
on  its  bosom  the  grand  project  of  "Graduated  EndoVv- 
ment "  broke  itself  up  into  many  wavelets  of  lesser 
activity,  before  sinking  back  to  the  common  level  of  the 
sea. 

The  noise  of  the  fights  had  reached  the  alert  and 
active  ears  of  Mr.  Parmenter,  and  not  less  the  story 
of  Gaston's  and  Brade's  ambitious  adventures  among 
Words  and  Languages.  The  turkey,  stolen  and  recov- 
ered, had  occupied  his  attention ;  the  traps,  and  Kainor's 
supposed  connection  with  them,  had  not  escaped  him ; 
he  knew  of  the  liosicrucian  mystery. 

In  all  these,  Mr.  Parmenter  interested  himself,  and 
with  an  amount  of  bustle  unwonted  even  in  him. 

About  the  traps  he  satisfied  himself  from  boys  of  the 
School ;  as  to  the  turkey  he  made,  in  passing,  personal 
inquiry  at  the  scene  of  the  marauding ;  complimented, 
with  dignity,  the  cook  and  Christina,  in  turn,  on  their 
carefulness  and  skill,  —  receiving,  iu  his  face,  a  smiling 


326  ANTONY  BEADE. 

expression  of  satisfaction  at  being  appreciated,  and  in 
his  back,  when  he  turned  it  (alas !  cooks  are  not  choice 
in  their  English)  the  comment  that  "  there  were  some 
would  be  always  sticking  their  noses  where  they 
thought  there  was  a  hole :  couldn't  he  leave  the  Rec- 
tor of  the  School  to  look  after  his  own  kitchen  ?  " 

He  had  convinced  both  Mr.  Don  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Merritt  that  they  ought  to  go  (as  they  accordingly  did) 
to  ascertain  whether  discipline  had  been  wisely  admin- 
istered in  the  case  of  Tarleton  and  his  two  unwilling 
antagonists. 

Lastly,  he  came  himself  on  a  friendly  visit  to  Rector 
Warren's  study ;  and,  after  a  preliminary  compliment, 
as  he  looked  round  with  a  sort  of  salutatory  wave  of  his 
hand  and  hat  to  the  books  and  other  ornaments  of  the 
room,  that  "  he  always  felt  awed,  in  such  an  atmosphere 
of  learning  and  taste,"  went  on  to  speak  of  the  various 
happenings  and  doings  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  his 
familiarity  with  School-topics,  and  his  never-flagging 
interest  in  them. 

"  The  Trustees  felt,"  he  said,  "  that  the  School  was 
in  able  hands.  He  regretted  that  a  secret  organization 
seemed  to  baffle  the  authorities,  —  that  sort  of  thing  had 
been  too  much  for  former  Rectors." 

Then  he  smilingly  changed  the  subject  to  Brade's 
treatment  of  Tarleton.  He  "supposed  that  some 
people  would  recognize  Brade's  conduct  as  high  blood 
showing  itself,  —  a  flashing-out  of  the  diamond.  He 
didn't  attach  much  importance  to  those  things;  but 
there  was  no  knowing  how  strong  blood  was,  that  might 
be  said  to  have  filtered  for  centuries  through  pretty 
choice  clay.  And  then,  he  supposed,  it  wouldn't  do " 
(this  he  said  by  way  of  parenthesis,  and  with  very  evi- 


MR.    PARMENTER  MORE  ACTIVE.  327 

dent  embarrassment)  "  for  people  who  had  some  preten- 
sions that  way  themselves  to  be  hasty  in  saying  that 
old  blood  was  not  a  very  powerful  instrument.  He 
himself,  perhaps,  was  drawn  by  his  descent  to  French 
manners  and  tastes." 

To  this,  of  course,  the  Rector  of  the  School,  being  a 
well-bred  and  sensible  man,  assented,  and  said  that  "  it 
was  very  possible."  This  gentleman,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  was  not  enthusiastic  on  the  subject  of  Brade's 
mysterious  birth. 
,Mr.  Parmenter  enlarged  a  little  :  — 

"  He  was  gl;id  to  find  that  Brade's  abilities  kept  pace 
with  his  future  station,  —  in  this  or  any  other  country  " 

—  (a  difficult  figure,  but  boldly  managed),  "  and  that 
he  was  going  to  turn  out  an  honor  to  his  position. 
Mightn't  it  be  well,"  he  asked,  "to  put  a  boy  like  that, 

—  like  Gaston  and  Brade,  for  example,  —  forward,  with- 
out spoiling  them  ?  There  were  not  many  public  occa- 
sions, to  be  sure ;  but  a  classical  speech  assigned  to  two 
such  boys  as  Gaston  and  Brade,  for  instance,  on  some 
public  occasion,  might  be  a  good  thing ;  for  their 
scholarship  was  creditable  to  the  School. 

There  Avas  a  tone  of  recommendation  through  all 
this,  that,  very  likely,  did  not  make  it  more  pleasant  to 
the  Head  of  St.  Bartholomew's  School. 

He  answered  simply,  "  Yes ;  very  likely." 

Mr.  Parmenter,  with  much  definiteness  of  purpose, 
went  on :  — 

"  There  was  one  thing  which,  he  thought,  it  might  be 
well  to  mention.  Not  many  things,  generally,  escaped 
liim;  but  he  had  observed  Brade  particularly,  at  Church, 
for  the  last  Sunday  or  two,  because  (he  believed)  Brade 
was  a  candidate  for  confirmation.     Now,  of  course,  his 


328  ANTONY  BRADE. 

behavior  was  always  like  a  young  gentleman  ;  but  Mr. 
Parmenter  had  observed  one  practice,  which,  perhaps, 
might  be  corrected  at  once.  All  through  the  prayers, 
Brade  appeared  to  have  his  eyes  shut,  while  his  lips 
were  moving.  Now  Mr.  Parmenter  did  not  know  what 
might  be  the  custom  in  foreign  churches  ;  but  it  would 
not  do  to  make  exceptions  or  allowances  here.  St. 
Bartholomew's  was  a  Church  School,  and  it  must  be 
understood  that  whoever  came  to  it  must  conform. 
The  rule  of  the  Church  was  to  follow  the  book  with 
the  eyes  open,  was  it  not  ?  Mr.  Parmenter  thought 
it  might  be  well  to  speak  to  Brade  privately.  There 
were  other  things,  about  the  deportment  of  different 
boys  at  their  prayers,  which  he  would  reserve  for  an- 
other time.  He  thought  Brade's  case  important  as  a 
candidate  for  confirmation,  and  brought  up,  perhaps,  in 
another  way." 

The  Rector  of  the  School,  as  we  should  expect,  hav- 
ing seen  him  through  former  visits  of  this  sort,  had  sat 
impatiently  under  the  latter  part  of  this  speech,  and  had 
risen  from  his  seat  before  it  was  finished. 

He  answered  a  little  unceremoniously :  "  He  thought 
very  well  of  encouraging  Gaston's  and  Brade's  scholar- 
ship ;  but  the  other  suggestion  he  could  not  accept. 
He  must  take  leave  to  be  guided,  in  such  matters,  by 
his  own  discretion.  There  was  no  question  about 
indulging  foreign  habits.  The  boy,  he  believed,  had 
never  been  inside  of  any  place  of  worship  in  his  life 
but  one  soi't ;  and  he  was  going  to  be  confirmed  just  as 
he  had  been  brought  up.  But  the  boy  was  singularly 
truthful  and  earnest,  as  sensitive  boys  were  apt  to  be  ; 
and  in  spiritual  things  must  be  treated  with  great  re- 
serve and  delicacy." 


MR.  PABMENTEB  MORE  ACTIVE.  329 

Mr.  Warren  spoke  hastily ;  but  his  visitor,  with  only 
a  slight  change  of  countenance,  accepted  the  difference 
of  opinion.  It  had  not  been  without  moral  benefit, 
probably,  that  he  had  had  the  practice,  for  many  years, 
of  managing  his  temper  and  manners,  in  dealing  with 
customers  from  behind  a  counter.  His  control  of  him- 
self, now,  was  just  about  of  the  same  sort  that  we  have 
seen  him  apply  to  his  horse,  and  with  the  same  apparent 
consciousness  that  what  he  was  doing  was  the  right 
thing,  and  done  just  rightly. 

"  He  was  sorry  that  their  views  did  not  entirely 
coincide,"  he  said ;  but  then,  by  a  sort  of  transition 
that  seemed  habitual  with  him,  changed  the  subject, 
and  congratulated  the  Rector  of  the  School  on  "  having 
so  good  a  set  in  his  kitchen."  He  finished,  in  his  usual 
handsome  way,  by  saying  that  "  he  had  observed  a 
vacant  place  for  a  statuette  "  (the  word  seemed  familiar 
to  him)  :  "  might  he  be  allowed  to  present  a  mate  to 
the  figure  of  a  martyr,  in  the  corresponding  place  ?  " 

Mr.  Warren  thanked  him,  but  declined :  "  the  place 
was  already  provided  for." 

The  visitor  departed  ceremoniously,  and  in  the  hall 
was  probably  unconsciously  rehearsing  the  interview ; 
for,  with  hat  in  hand,  he  was  in  the  midst  of  an  elabo- 
rate bow  to  the  emptiness  before  him,  when  the  cheery 
salutation  of  Mr.  Manson,  from  below,  interrupted. 

Mr.  Parmenter  recovered  himself;  and,  having  ascer- 
tained that  his  pastor  "had  a  few  moments'  leisure,"  led 
the  way  to  the  outside  of  the  house,  and  there  addressed 
himself  to  the  Rector  of  the  Parish.  To  him  he  repre- 
sented the  propriety  of  exact  conformity  by  the  boys  of 
their  School,  when  in  Church ;  and  testified,  from  his 
own  observation,  to  sundry  discrepancies. 


330  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  How  do  you  manage,"  asked  the  parson  and  editor, 
"  to  keep  such  a  strong  eye  to  earth  when  you're  pray- 
ing ?  I  couldn't  for  the  life  of  me.  I  think  the  boys 
behave  very  well;  and  it  isn't  a  good  thing  to  meddle 
too  much." 

"  It's  as  well  to  have  things  right,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
Mr.  Parmenter. 

"  Oh,  yes !  but  meddling  too  much  is  what  I'm  talk- 
ing about.  Here's  one  of  the  leading  places  in  this 
country:  its  Dutch  neighbors,  in  Colony  times,  for 
always  trying  to  domineer,  called  it  Boss*-town,  and 
the  name's  stuck  to  it  ever  since, — just  as  the  thing 
has  too,  for  that  matter." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  the  connection,"  said  Mr.  Parmen- 
ter :  "  you  can  hardly  call  doing  your  duty  '  meddling,' 
I  think." 

"  I'll  tell  you  where  to  begin,  though,"  said  the  par- 
son. "  Begin  at  the  older  people.  There  are  some  of 
your  Trustees  that  kneel  in  a  very  trusteeical  way  when 
they're  here,  —  with  nothing  but  their  heads.  There's 
a  missionary  field  for  you  to  expatiate  in.  You'd  better 
go  at  them.    It'll  do  'em  good." 

Mr.  Parmenter  was  grave  and  in  earnest : 

"  The  cases  are  not  quite  parallel,  I  think,  sir,"  he 
said.  "  The  boys  are  under  our  control,  to  be  brought 
up  as  they  ought  to  be.  We  can  hardly  apply  the 
same  rule  to  grown-up  people,  who  are  their  own 
masters." 

*  To  be  exact  as  a  philologist,  Mr.  Manson  ought  to  have  given 
the  true  Dutch  form,  "Baas"  (pronounced  Bans),  and  not  the 
American  form  of  it,  "Boss."  The  Bostonians  show  the  force  of 
traditional  habit,  in  pronouncing  the  name  "  Baws-ton,"  to  this 
day. 


MR.   PARMENTER  MORE  ACTIVE.  331 

Here  Mr.  Parinenter,  by  an  easy  diversion,  changed 
the  subject  a  little,  changing  his  mind  also. 

"  You're  aware  that  there's  to  be  a  meeting  of  the 
Trustees  on  Thursday,  sir?"  he  asked;  and  having 
given  this  turn  to  things,  and  received  Mr.  Manson's 
answer,  he  courteously  left  him  to  pursue  his  visit  to 
the  Head  of  the  School. 

As  the  visit  does  not  directly  concern  our  story,  we 
leave  the  account  of  it  untold. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   TRUSTEES  MEET. 

The  meeting  of  the  Trustees  had  been  called  to 
occupy  Mr.  Parmenter's  house  on  an  evening  during  a 
'three-days'  absence  of  the  owner. 

The  day  had  been  rainy,  and  the  night  was  so ;  but 
the  room  was  bright  with  chandelier  and  candles,  and 
a  quiet  blaze  of  cannel  coal  from  a  long  and  very  low 
and  open  iron  basket,  laid  across  a  pair  of  handsome 
andirons. 

A  majority  of  the  Trustees  came.  The  Judges  were 
absent.  Counsellor  and  Law-lecturer  Pethrick  had  been 
made  sure  of. 

Dr.  Farwell  was  bland  to  a  high  degree.  Dr.  But- 
tonn  twirled  his  thumbs,  while  he  awaited  whatever 
action  might  be  pi-oposed.  Mr.  Manson  was  not,  this 
time,  reading  and  pencil-marking,  but  appai-ently  in- 
dulging himself  in  absolute  leisure ;  talking,  listening, 
keeping  silence,  as  might  happen.  Mr.  Pettie  wake- 
fully  held  his  place,  looking  out  from  under  his  eye- 
brows, and  entered  into  little  conversation,  as  if  afraid 
of  delaying  the  opening  for  business.  Mr.  Don  was  in 
a  condition  of  grave  importance,  as  having  been  the 
chief  occasion  of  this  meeting,  and  likely  to  have  a 
chief  hand  in  the  furtherance  of  its  action.  Mr.  Merritt 
was  in  a  state  corresponding  to  that  of  Dr.  Farwell : 


THE   TRUSTEES   MEET.  333 

where  the  Doctor  was  more  than  commonly  spreading 
and  wise  and  beaming,  the  otlier  was,  perhaps,  more 
than  usually  quick  and  to  the  point. 

Between  Dr.  Farvvell  and  his  friend  a  by-play  Kad 
been  going  on,  in  which  more  than  one  familiar, 
and  therefore  inoffensive,  joke  had  been  let  off  by 
familiar  hands.  The  younger  divine  had  been  already 
called,  with  emphasis,  a  Merritt-orious  trustee,  and  a 
Merry-ttorious  man,  and  also  an  e-Merritt-us  officer. 
Very  likely  even  then  the  reverend  Doctor  had  not 
emptied  liis  quiver  of  half  the  bright-tipped  weajDons 
with  which  he  wore  it  loaded. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order;  and  Mr.  Merritt 
retaliated  by  saying,  as  he  leaned  over,  "And  now  Far- 
well,  a  long  Farwell,  to  all  thy  brightness ! " 

Dr.  Farwell  entered  upon  business  in  the  happiest 
state.  His  eyes  twinkled  at  each  side  of  his  nose  like 
lighted  Avindows  in  fishers'  cots  nestling  at  each  side  of 
a  jutting  promontory.  (There's  a  pretty  figure  for  our 
tasteful  readers!)  He  sat  there,  ready  to  do  justice  to 
every  thing  in  turn,  and  to  carry  all,  if  needful,  along 
with  him.  His  last  private  act  was  to  call  Mr.  Manson's 
attention,  aside,  to  the  artistic  taste  and  beauty  of  a 
pair  of  andirons,  of  gold  bronze,  on  the  hearth,  and 
which  represented  furnace-men,  shielding  their  faces 
with  mittened  hands  from  the  heat. 

The  minutes  of  the  last  meeting  having  been  read, 
and  a  pause  ensuing,  Counsellor  Pethrick  employed  the 
empty  time  in  laying  out  the  business,  as  "  it  seemed  to 
divide  itself  naturally,  into  two  parts,  each  of  which 
was  capable  of  further  subdivision :  I.  Shall  the  Trus- 
tees institute  commeniorations  of  benefactors  ?  a.  Shall 
individual  benefactors  be  recognized   in  their  several 


334  ANTONY  BRADE. 

capacities  ?  b.  Shall  Mr.  Parmenter  be  so  lecognized ? 
II.  What  shall  be  the  chai'acter  of  the  commemora- 
tion ?  a.  Shall  it  take  the  shaj^e  of  a  School  holiday  ? 
b.  What  shall  be  the  character  of  the  public  cele- 
bration ?  " 

This  systematic  treatment  of  the  subject  had  an 
effect  which  it  often  has,  of  making  everybody  ready 
to  proceed  to  the  immediate  consideration,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, the  speedy  settlement  of  the  business.  Dr.  Far- 
well  felt  that  it  was  his  time  to  give  that  direction  to 
things.  There  was  in  him  now  no  trace  of  pleasant 
levity :  he  was  all  himself. 

"We  have  heard,"  he  said,  "the  matter  well  laid 
out,  —  laid  out  with  the  largeness  of  scope  and  accu- 
racy of  definition  of  a  legal  intellect.  It  was  proper  — 
it  was  fitting  —  that  it  should  be  so  laid  out.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  every  one  present  felt,  as  he  did,  the  eminent 
propriety  of  the  thing.  The  word  which  he  [Dr.  Far- 
well]  had  in  his  own  mind  to  say  was  that,  as  there 
were  moments  for  reflection  and  deliberation,  so  there 
were  moments  for  action.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
time  had  now  come  for  action." 

At  this  point  his  friend  Mr.  Merritt  "  moved  that,  in 
order  to  bring  the  subject  in  a  tangible  shape  before 
them,  the  propositions  which  they  had  just  heard 
should  be  reduced  to  resolutions  and  acted  upon  sepa- 
rately." Mr,  Pettie  offered  a  ready  pencil  to  the  mover 
for  this  purpose. 

The  subject  was  now  open  for  discussion,  in  the  con- 
sideration of  the  first  resolution :  /Shall  the  Trustees 
institute  commemorations  of  benefactors  ? 

Upon  this  point  the  opinions  seemed  already  pretty 
well  made  up.     Dr.  Buttonn,  smiling,  said  that  "  those 


THE   TRUSTEES  MEET.  335 

sort  of  things  tickled  benefactors,  amazingly."  Mr. 
Pettie  "saw  no  objection:  people  when  they  give  like 
to  be  recognized."  Dr.  Farwell  "did  not  know  that 
there  was  any  objection :  people  give,  because  they 
have  got  something  to  give.  There  is  the  broad  fact. 
The  question  is,  Shall  the  fact  be  recognized  ?  Well, 
Shall  the  sun  be  recognized  ?  Will  you  recognize  the 
rain  ?  Then,  as  to  a  public  recognition.  We  are  a 
public  body ;  the  world  looks  upon  us  as  a  public 
body :  we  can't  hide  ourselves,  —  we  can't  put  our- 
selves out  of  sight,  —  as  a  public  body.     We"  — 

Mr.  Merritt  "  thought  that,  if  the  Trustees  Avere 
ready,  the  first  resolution  might  be  submitted  to  a 
vote;"  and  Dr.  Farwell,  falling  back  into  his  arm- 
chair, expressed  all  the  rest  of  his  sentiments,  as  well  as 
his  concurrence  in  the  general  tide  of  opinion,  by  a 
wave  of  the  hand.     The  resolution  was  adopted. 

Upon  the  second  resolution,  about  recognizing  indi- 
vidual benefactors,  a  great  deal  of  good  sense  and 
discrimination  was  shown.  Dr.  Buttonn  expressed  a 
large  truth  when  he  said  that  "  there  were  but  three 
hundred  and  sixty-fi^e  days  in  a  year,  and  if  you  have 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  benefactors  you  may 
have  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  holidays ;  and  then 
you'd  have  no  time  for  school." 

To  this  Mr.  Manson  answered  that  "  each  might  take 
his  turn  —  one  a  year  —  for  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  years." 

A  difficulty  was  apparent  here.  Mr.  Manson's  prop- 
osition could  hardly  be  intended  seriously  to  meet  it. 
Dr.  Buttonn  inquired  whether  "  you  could  set  a  certain 
stent,  and  say  all  who  came  up  to  that  stent  should 
have  a  day  ?  " 


336  ANTONY  BBADE. 

It  "  struck  "  Mr.  Counsellor  Petlirick  "  that  this  ar- 
rangement might  be  inconvenient;  for,  unless  you^et 
your  mark  pretty  high,  you  would  not  obviate  your 
difficulty,  and,  if  you  set  it  high,  you  seem  to  cut  off 
Mr.  Parmenter,  who  (as  the  Counsellor  understood  it) 
was  only  giving  five  thousand  dollars." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don,  for  the  first  time 
taking  part.  "  I  understand  Mr.  Parmenter  to  be  giving 
five  thousand  dollars  at  a  time :  he  may  give  ten  times 
five  thousand  dollars,  or  he  may  give  twenty  times  five 
thousand  dollars." 

"But  five  thousand  at  a  time?''''  said  Counsellor 
Pethrick,  "  and  not  more  than  five  thousand,  yet  f  " 

"  Suppose  we  lump  'era  all  together,  as  I  believe  was 
proposed  last  time,"  said  Mr.  Merritt,  "and  that'll 
settle  two  of  your  resolutions  "  (looking  at  his  paper). 
"  You'll  recognize  individuals,  and  you'll  recognize 
Mr.  Parmenter,  who  is  your  first  benefactor ; "  and  he 
moved  the  adoption  of  a  resolution  to  that  effect.  It 
was  carried. 

It  was  now  proposed  that  the  Counselloi''s  second 
head,  with  its  two  subdivisions,  should  be  disposed  of 
in  the  same  compact  way  :  "  There  shall  be  a  School- 
holiday,  with  such  arrangements  for  the  celebration 
as  a  committee  may  determine."  The  resolution  was 
adopted,  and  Dr.  Farwell,  Mr.  Merritt,  and  Mr.  Pettie 
were  appointed  the  committee. 

Every  thing  seemed  to  have  gone  well.  The  evening 
was  rainy  :  the  Trustees  were  all  to  sleep  in  Eastham, 
—  there  was  no  huny.  Instead  of  adjourning,  there- 
fore, when  the  business  was  done,  the  members  stayed 
together,  talking ;  the  chairman  of  the  Committee,  Dr. 
Farwell,  remarking  that,  "  in  making  their  pl^ns,  the 


TEE   TRUSTEES  MEET.  337 

Committee  would  have  the  advantage  of  hearing  an 
expression  of  the  views  of  the  Trustees." 

"  The  Committee,"  said  Dr.  Farwell,  "  are  establishing 
a  precedent  for  posterity,  —  for  all  time.  They  will 
want  to  have  large  views.  They  cannot  prevent  their 
action  from  being  scrutinized  ages  hence,  —  it's  one  of 
the  conditions  of  their  office.  Posterity  will  say, '  Here 
was  a  committee,  composed  of  such  and  such  members, 
—  why  did  they  make  this  arrangement?  We  see  the 
name  of  one  Farwell  here.  What  was  the  determining 
consideration  in  his  mind  ?  What  was  the  ground  of 
his  action  ? '  " 

Mr.  Manson  suggested  that  the  chnirman  of  the  Com- 
mittee might  leave  on  record,  for  posterity,  an  account 
of  the  processes  of  his  mind,  in  coming  to  a  conclusion. 
Dr.  Farwell,  acknowledging  that  this  might  be  done, 
thought  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  their  action 
explain  itself,  so  that  it  might  be  said,  "  Here  was  such 
a  one  (Farwell  or  any  other)  :  his  course  is  a  track  of 
light." 

"  Suppose  we  talk  it  over,"  said  Mr.  Merritt.  "  What 
is  proposed  ?  You  want  something  that  the  boys  can 
take  part  in." 

"  It  occurred  to  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don,  modestly, 
"  that  a  procession,  with  some  decorations,  —  perhaps 
some  exercises  — .  There  are  two  boys,  —  Gaston 
and"  — 

"  You  must  remember  you've  got  winter,"  said  Mr. 
Merritt. 

Dr.  Buttonn,  who  had  seen  the  inside  of  trade  him- 
self, said.:  "It'll  be  a  pretty  good  advertisement." 

"  Suppose  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pettie :  "  it's  all  fair  and 
legitimate." 

15  V 


838  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Oh  !  "  said  Dr.  Buttonn,  "  I  don't  object  at  all.  I 
wouldn't  object  to  any  thing  that's  proj^osed." 

Mr.  Counsellor  Pethrick,  the  moment  it  had  been 
understood  that  the  Board  was  going  to  relax  a  little 
of  its  order  and  stiffness,  and  be  informal,  had  lighted  a 
cigar,  and  stretching  out  his  legs,  and  resting  his  head 
on  the  back  of  his  chair,  was  comfortably  and  reflec- 
tively blowing  slow  and  long  streams  of  smoke  up 
towards  the  ceiling.  Acting  on  his  suggestion,  the 
Kcverend  Doctor  Buttonn  had  cloA'en  a  huge  lump  of 
cannel  coal,  and  brought  forth  a  blaze  of  light  and 
warmth. 

Out  of  his  serene  infolding,  the  lawyer  spoke  :  — 

"  Parmenter's  made  a  wonderfully  good  thing  out  of 
that  '  Melitrech.'     Who  gave  him  the  name  ?" 

"  One  of  the  results  of  having  a  classical  school  at 
his  elbow,"  said  Mr.  Manson. 

"  And  now  he  wants  to  have  a  Latin  speech,  on  the 
Great  Day,  eh  ?  "  asked  the  lawyer. 

"You'll  have  to  have  your  '  exercises'  in-doors,  if  the 
weather  isn't  good,"  said  Mr.  Merritt.  "  It's  proposed, 
I  believe,  to  give  a  Latin  speech  to  one  or  two  of  the 
best  scholars,  —  Brade,  the  Great  Unknown,  and  Gas- 
ton"— 

"There  is  something  about  that  boy,  isn't  there?" 
Counsellor  Pethrick  asked.  "  Mr.  Parmenter  went  at 
the  guardian,  or  agent,  Bates ;  but  Bates  got  his  funds 
through  other  people,  and  when  Parmenter  tried  that 
string  he  found  there  was  a  lawyer  at  the  other  end, 
and  it  wouldn't  come.     Is  he  Russian  ?  or  wliut  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  any  more  Russian  than  I  am," 
said  Mr.  Manson.  "  He's  quick  at  languages,  —  you've 
heard  of  that  funny  paper  Gaston  and  he  got  up,  —  but 


THE   TRUSTEES  MEET.  339 

doesn't  know  a  word  of  Russian.  By  all  accounts,  he's 
a  fine-spiiited,  generous-hearted  fellow." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  dismiss  the  subject  too  hastily, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Don. 

"  Talking  of  a  turn  for  languages,"  said  Mr.  Merritt, 
drawing  from  a  pocket  a  scrap  of  paper,  crumpled  and 
soiled,  "can  anybody  make  something  out  of  this?  — 
Jow've  seen  it  before,"  he  added  to  Mr.  Don,  who,  after 
eying  it  sharply,  said,  — 

"The  same  document  that  was  picked  up,  I  think, 
sir?" 

"  Yes  :  '  Ekat  Nryai,'  "  said  the  possessor  of  the  paper, 
reading,  with  some  grimace,  and  handing- it  to  his  next 
neighbor,  who  happened  to  be  the  Rector  of  the  Parish 
and  Editor  of  the  "  Church  Post."  "  There's  one  curious 
thing  about  it,  certainly  :  '  sioa '  is  a  good  Anglo-saxon 
word,  I  find,  in  the  books." 

Mr.  Manson  did  not  keep  the  paper;  but  having 
glanced  hastily  at  its  fi-ont,  and  then  at  its  back,  put  it 
out  of  his  hand.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  in  answer  to  the  last 
speaker,  "I  believe  there  is  such  a  word  as  'swa'  in 
Anglo-saxon." 

The  Trustees,  in  one  way  or  other,  gave  more  or  less 
attention  to  the  paper;  Mr.  Pettie  scrutinizing  it  closely 
for  a  few  moments,  and  handing  it  on,  without  com- 
ment; Dr.  Buttonn  holding  it  long  enough  to  say  that 
"he  could  understand  tiie  arithmetic,  but  Avasn't  any 
hand  at  languages ;  "  Mr.  PethricK  eyed  it  only  from  his 
comfortable  distance  as  it  traversed  the  circle  ;  Dr.  Fur- 
well,  with  a  foce  of  hap])y  blandness,  read  some  of  the 
Avords,  with  emphasis  and  gesture,  and  called  upon  the 
company  to  say  how  it  coiiipr.rcd  with  the  Classic 
Tongues,  but  hoped  that  he  might  not  be  asked  to  com- 


340  ANTONY  BRADE. 


mit  himself  to  a  judgment.  "  There  seems,"  said  he, 
"  to  have  been  some  little  doubt  about  the  spelling, 
hei'e  :  '  gaterrapin,'  —  no,  it's  'gatrapin,'  first  with  two 
jt?'s,  and  then  one  scratched  out."  Ho  turned  with  a 
knowing  look  to  Mr.  Mauson,  sitting  at  his  right :  "  you 
know  something  about  this,  —  I  saw  you  smile." 

Mr.  Manson  disclaimed  all  knowledge  of  it,  and  "  had 
no  opinion  about  it  at  all." 

Mr.  Don,  as  the  attention  to  Mr.  Mei-ritt's  paper 
flagged,  produced  one  of  his  own,  containing  a  single 
word,  of  which  no  one  present  could  make  any  thing. 

"  We  shall  have  to  make  ourselves  into  an  Inscrip- 
tion-society, if  this  goes  on,"  said  Mr.  Manson.  "  Where 
did  this  last  come  from  ?  " 

"  I  copied  it  from  a  very  ancient  and  curious  watch, 
belonojiner  to  Brade  "  — 

«  That  old  silver  watch  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Merritt.  "  Oh  ! 
I  know  all  about  that:  that  isn't  Brade's,  it's  Remsen's. 
It  never  was  Bi-ade's ;  only  Brade  had  it.  There's  one 
thing  more  about  that  other  pa})er,"  he  continued,  re- 
turnijag  to  his  own,  after  having  dismissed  Mr.  Don's, 
"  It's  written  in  a  girl's  hand.  —  That  '  swa,'  I  think,  is 
rather  curious." 

"  So  you're  going  to  have  the  celebration,  and  speechi- 
fying;" said  Counsellor  Pethrick,  who  had  taken  no  ac- 
tive part  in  the  examination  of  the  papers.  "  You've 
settled  that  ?  " 

"  That's  a  sudden  pop  given  to  the  Committee  ; "  said 
Di\  Farwell,  condescending  to  a  familiar  word  capable 
of  a  sudden  emphasis,  which  he  gave  it,  with  his 
lips,  in  uttering  it.  "  Shall  we  resume  our  delibera- 
tions ?  " 

"  I'm  getting  a  little  sleepy,"  said  Dr.  Buttonn,  who 


THE   TRUSTEES  MEET.  341 

was  a  solid  man  :  "  there's  a  general  understanding. 
We  can  trust  the  Committee.     Suppose  we  adjourn," 

No  one  was  unwilling ;  and  gathering  itself  up  again, 
from  its  relaxation,  into  an  official  body,  the  Board  for- 
mally adjourned. 

"  An  informal  Committee-meeting  at  Mrs.  Wadham's 
party?"  asked  Mr.  Pettie,  of  the  Chairman,  as  they 
shook  oflfthe  weariness  of  sitting.  So  it  was  agreed,  it 
being  understood  that  one  or  two  others  of  the  Trustees 
were  likely  to  be  there. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MRS.    WADHAM'S    PARTY. 

Mr,  Greenwood,  as  we  have  already  heard,  had  been 
away,  just  when  his  help  was  wanted,  in  correspondence 
with  the  Russian  Ambassador.  He  did  not,  however, 
stay  away  for  ever,  and  had,  some  time  since,  come  back, 
ready  (and  perhaps  a  little  more  than  ready)  to  lend 
himself  to  the  carrying  out  of  the  projected  party,  and 
all  that  belonged  to  it. 

Yet  weeks  had  gone  on  into  the  Uncounted  Past, 
since  the  first  foi'ecasting,  in  Mrs.  Wadham's  parlor, 
and  still  the  party  had  not  come.  This  delay  could  not 
have  been  owing  to  any  fear  of  expense,  for,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  lady  was  not  niggardly.  It  was  not  owing 
to  the  want  of  Mr.  Greenwood,  for  Mr.  Greenwood  had 
for  some  time  been  upon  the  spot ;  yet  already  all  the 
almanacs  had  counted  into  December.  The  Trustees 
had  appointed  '■  Benefactors'  Day "  to  come  on  the 
Fifteenth. 

The  truth  was,  that  Mrs.  Wadham  herself  had  been 
away,  on  a  short  visit  to  the  city. 

Before  going  down,  she  had  expressed  to  Rector 
Warren  lier  sympathy  for  "  that  young  motherless  boy 
that  they  called  a  Russian,"  and  had  got  leave  for  him 
to  come  to  her  house  to  dinner.  She  had  had  him  all 
by  himself;  had  had  a  most  excellent  chance  to  impress 
upon  him,  with  delicacy  and  good  judgment,  the  lone- 


MRS.    WADHAM'S  PARTY,  343 

liiiess  of  a  boy  who  had  "  no  mother  to  come  and  tell 
his  little  secrets  to,  and  lay  his  head  on  her  bosom  ; " 
and  then,  Avhen  doubtless  his  heart  was  tender,  she  had 
adroitly  touched  upon  languages,  and  asked  him  how 
many  he  knew.  To  this  Brade,  like  any  reasonably 
modest  fellow,  and  also  a  free-hearted  boy,  as  he  was, 
had  answered  that  he  sujoposed  he  did  not  know  any 
one  language  really,  but  he  was  learning;  and  so  he 
gave  her  a  short  list  of  the  tongues  which  a  boy  com- 
monly learns  at  school,  in  fitting  for  college.  Russian 
was  not  among  them. 

In  making  his  answer,  it  may  be,  indeed,  that  he  re- 
called to  his  mind,  with  some  tenderness,  his  late  work 
on  "  The  Analogy  of  Languages  ;  "  and  he  may  have 
been  even  more  tenderly  conscious  of  his  share  in  the 
authorship  of  a  whole  Language  ;  but  his  list  took  in 
a  couple  of  old-time  tongues,  and  a  couj^le  of  those  of 
to-day,  and  there  it  stopped. 

Mrs.  Wadham  had  drawn  things  very  skilfully  to 
this  point;  and,  now,  to  get  one  step  further!  This  she 
did  also  skilfully,  by  saying  that  "  there  were  some  fine 
languages  that  they  did  not  teach  at  St.  Bartholomew's 
School,"  and  then  suddenly,  but  with  great  delicacy, 
si)ringing  upon  him  the  word  "Russian." 

For  an  instant,  Brade  looked  as  if  he  thought  that  she 
was  making  fun  of  him ;  but  presently  he  laughed,  and 
confessed  that  "  he  ought  to  know  Russian,  but  he  did 
not."  And  when  she  asked  him  slowly,  —  not  with 
"archness,"  which  was  not  her  style,  but  with  broad- 
ness and  massiveness,  lightened  by  a  smile  of  intelli- 
gence, —  "  '  Stnis  ')iryai\  isn't  it  ?  Smis  nryai  :  '  "  then, 
as  she  would  have  s:iid,  she  "had  got  him."  As 
soon  as  he  fairly  took  in  the   two  cabalistic  words,  ho 


344  ANTONY  BRADE. 


laughed,  to  be  sure ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  bhished 
all  over.  She  had  touched  a  tender  place.  —  "  It's  all 
safe  with  me,"  she  said,  to  reassure  him. 

"  That  was  a  secret,"  Bi-ade  told  her.  "  That  was  a 
kind  of  unknown  tongue  ; "  but  Mrs.  Wadham,  though 
(as  she  might  have  said)  "  very  much  the  mother  in  her 
disposition,"  was  a  woman  of  observation  and  experi- 
ence. She  saw  for  herself  his  blushes  ;  she  saw  his  em- 
barrassment. She  might,  perhaps,  with  some  reason, 
think  that  she  had  the  key  in  the  very  wards  of  the 
lock  now. 

If  the  reader  will  remember  that  these  two  words  rep- 
resented, in  the  private  language  which  we  saw  under- 
going its  making,  the  beginning  of  a  letter,  —  "Miss 
Ryan,  I,"  —  he  will  not  wonder  at  a  little  confusion,  on 
the  boy's  part ;  but  if  he  recalls  that  wish  expressed 
when  "  The  Language  "  was  made,  that  the  Post- 
master-General, or  some  great  jDerson,  might  light  upon 
it,  he  will  believe  that  our  young  author  must  have  felt 
a  stir  and  glow  of  pleasurable  mystery  and  importance 
at  seeing  Mrs.  Wadham  try  her  teeth  upon  the  secret. 

"  Are  we  beginning  to  have  a  little  confidence  ?  "  she 
asked ;  and  then,  applying  the  method  which  she  had 
announced  from  the  beginning,  cemented  the  "  confi- 
dence : " 

"  That'll  do  for  the  present.  It's  all  perfectly  safe 
with  me;"  and  put  him  under  her  daughter's  charge  to 
look  at  flowers  and  books,  and  whatever  he  liked. 

Then  Mrs.  Wadham  had  made  a  visit  to  the  city. 
Her  daughter  cautioned  her,  beforehand,  "  not  to  make 
a  fool  of  herself  with  that  language,"  and  was  assured 
that  she  "would  do  just  right  about  it,  exactly,  —  no 
more  and  no  less." 


MRS.    WADHAM'S  PARTY.  345 

Mrs.  Wadham  had  been  away  from  home,  day  after 
day,  for  a  good  many  days.  No  letters  came  from  her ; 
and  it  was  thought  at  home,  by  Mr.  Greenwood,  who 
smiled  over  it,  and  Miss  Minette,  who  assented  with  a 
smile,  that  "  she  must  be  pretty  hard  at  work."  "  He 
thought  the  first  one  she  met,  with  a  Russian  Bible  and 
Dictionary  under  his  arms,  would  satisfy  her." 

At  length  she  had  come  back.  "  One  thing,"  she 
said,  "  she  had  found  out,  at  any  rate :  it  wasn't  Rus- 
sian,—  that  was  a  clear  case.     It  wasn't  Russian." 

"  Well,  let's  see :  how  did  the  impression  first  get 
about  that  the  boy  was  a  Russian  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Green- 
wood, thoughtfully. 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  not  easily  stirred  from  her  strong 
and  solid  standing,  wherever  she  might  have  set  her- 
self. 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  I  mean  to  give  up  every 
thing,  when  I  say  he  ain't  a  Russian  ?  "  she  said.  "  A 
boy  may  be  a  foreign  nobleman,  without  being  a  Rus- 
sian, I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  whose  stores 
of  education  were  always  at  his  command,  "  a  Livonian, 
Lithuanian,  Esthonian,  Tongusian  "  — 

"Well,  we'll  take  the  rest  for  granted,"  said  Mrs. 
Wadham.     "He  can  be  something  besides  Russian?" 

"  Why,  he  can  be  something  else  and  Russian,  too," 
said  Mr.  Greenwood.  "  He  can  be  a  Finnish  gentle- 
man, —  that  is,  a  gentleman  from  Finland,  —  or  he 
may  be  a  Kalmuc  Tartar,  that's  harder  to  catch  than 
a  Parisian  accent,  or  Greek,  either.  The  Emperor's 
'Emperor  of  All  the  Russias:'  there  are  plenty  of  'em. 
They  all  talk  different  tongues,  and  one  can't  under- 
stand a  word  the  other  says,  and  not  more  than  every 
16* 


346  ANTONY  BRADE. 

other  word  he  says  himself.  I  doubt  if  I  could  have 
understood  the  Russian  Ambassador.  It  would  depend 
upon  what  part  of  the  country  he  came  from,  —  it 
would  be  just  as  it  happened." 

"I  thought  you  knew  Russian?  "  said  the  lady,  whose 
memory  was  good. 

"  Ah !  I  don't  make  myself  clear,"  he  said.  "  I  was 
just  saying  that  one  Russian  don't  understand  another, 
and  he  may  be  a  Russian  in  every  hair  of  his  head. 
If  you  can't  know  'em  all,  you  take  any  one.  I  chose 
Old  Muscovite,  as  central,  including  Cossack." 

"  I  don't  see  much  use  in  hamng  Russians,  at  that 
rate,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham.  —  "Well,  that  doesn't  any 
ways  excuse  the  Russian  Ambassador.  My  note  was 
English ;  and  there's  only  one  English,  I  think," 

What  methods  slie  had  used  in  her  research  — ■ 
whether  she  had  shown  her  manuscript  to  some  one  in 
the  peculiar  guise  of  a  Russian  seafarer,  as  Mr.  Green- 
wood thought  likely,  or  had  been  in  correspondence 
with  men  learned  in  languages  —  she  carefully  kept  to 
herself.  From  her  saying  that  "  she  had  naturally, 
during  her  visit,  met  with  several  distinguished  schol- 
ars," it  might  be  thought  that  she  had  communicated 
with  professors  of  the  neighboring  university. 

One  thing  she  waS  emphatic  about :  that  "  she  her- 
self was  as  near  to  that  boy,  and  as  near  to  liis  secret, 
as  anybody  was :  she  had  touched  a  chord ;  she  had 
opened  an  avenue." 

Mr.  Greenwood  and  MissMinette  were  anxious  about 
the  party  and  the  tableaux  and  the  fun ;  but  Mrs. 
Wadham  set  all  apprehensions  at  rest.  "  The  party," 
she  assured  them,  "  would  go  on.  She  should  give  a 
particular  character  to  it.     The  boy  might  not  be  Rus- 


MRS.  WADEAM'S  PARTY.  347 

sian  ;  but  that  didn't  matter.  He  was  something.  Mr. 
Parmenter  had,  most  likely,  thought  it  was  pretty 
sharp,  going  to  Mr.  Bates.  Who  couldn't  go  to  Mr. 
Bates?  Anybody  would  think  of  that.  Mr.  Bates 
didn't  know  any  thing.  All  Mr.  Bates  knew  was  the 
money  was  sent  him,  twice  a  year,  as  regular  as  the 
clock.  If  he  wanted  more,  all  he  had  to  do  was  to 
say  so.  That  was  what  Mr.  Bates  knew.  The  party 
was  for  her  sons  and  their  friends,  and  she  should  give 
a  particular  character  to  it." 

Mrs.  Wadham  needed  no  long  time  to  feel  again  the 
influences  of  home  and  habit ;  to  be  full  of  herself 
again  and  of  her  plans ;  to  be  well  seated,  and  to  get 
the  reins  of  things  well  into  her  hands,  and  well- 
charged  with  electric  sympathy  between  the  driver  and 
the  animated  and  inanimate  things  that  she  controlled. 

The  eyes  of  Eastham  had  soon  followed  her  progress 
on  more  than  one  errand  to  and  from  the  pretty  cottage 
in  which  Mrs.  Ryan  lived  with  Kate  and  one  domestic. 
The  general  mind  of  Eastham,  too,  to  which  that  of 
Eldridge  contributed,  and  also  that  of  Uncle  Nat  Bor- 
rows, who  hobbled  about  Mrs.  Ryan's  out-door  chores, 
exercised  itself  daily,  at  store  or  post-office,  with  these 
and  other  things.  It  knew  that  one  of  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham's  visits — and  this,  as  it  haj^j^ened,  on  a  very  raw 
and  chilly  December's  day  —  had  been  "  to  see  the  fruit- 
trees;"  and  recalled  the  fact  that  "there  wasn't  but 
about  one  old  gnarled  apple-tree  and  two-three  damson- 
plums,  on  that  place  ;  and  they  couldn't  be  expected 
to  be  doing  a  dreadful  sight,  not  at  that  season  of  the 
year."  The  general  mind  drew  forth  from  its  stores 
the  foct  that  "  there  was  some  folks  that  wanted  to 
make  out  that  there  was  something  underhand  between 


348  ANTONY  BRADE. 


the  Ryans  and  that  handsome-looking  Brade  boy,  up 
there,  to  the  School." 

So,  in  discussing  this  visit,  the  general  face  of  East- 
ham  wore  a  smile  of  wonder ;  and  it  was  "  guessed 
them  fruit-trees  wa'n't  all." 

Much  the  same  process  was  gone  through  with,  in 
the  discussion  of  another  visit,  "  to  taste  Mrs.  Ryan's 
water."  The  public  said  :  "  To  be  sure,  there  wa'n't  no 
water  in  Eastham  but  what  was  good  ;  but,  if  there 
was  any  water  in  Eastham  that  most  gen'lly  had  a 
kind  of  a  washy  taste,  spring  and  fall  times,  it  was  on 
that  Farebrother  place.  Most  likely  Miss  Wadham 
wanted  something  more'n  that." 

Therefore  the  public  smiled  at  this  also. 

Then  there  was  at  least  one  other  visit,  "  to  ask 
Miss  Kate  to  take  part  in  a  tableau  at  her  house " 
(Mrs.  Wadham's).  "  This,"  in  the  opinion  of  the  same 
public,  "  looked  all  square  and  business-like ;  but  it 
was  well  known  to  them  (the  public)  she'd  praised  up 
the  Roossians  to  Miss  Ryan,  and  Miss  Ryan  told  her  she 
didn't  know  nothing  about  the  Roossians.  Now,  what 
she  wanted  was  to  find  out  if  there  was  any  thing 
between  that  boy  and  them ;  and,  if  she'd  only  asked 
the  neighbors,  they  could  ha'  told  her  fast  enough  that 
he'd  been  seen  with  one  or  t'other  of  'em  more'n  once  " 
("  yes,  time  an'  time  again,"  Jake  Moody  said)  "  'thout 
any  smellin'  round  apples  an'  plums  that  wa'n't  there, 
an'  drinkin'  water  that  wa'n't  no  great,  no  time  o'  year  ;" 
"an'  that  wouldn't  show  that  he  was  a  Roossian,"  added 
the  public ;  "  if  any  thing,  jest  the  exact  contrary,  for 
the  Ryans  wasn't  Roossians." 

The  public,  therefore,  felt  reasonably  hurt  at  Mrs. 
Wadham's   taking   such    a  method,   without   availing 


MBS.  WADHAM'S  PARTY.  349 

herself  of  the  information  ah-eady  possessed  by  the 
public. 

The  lady  had  her  own  way  of  going  on,  and  went 
her  own  way. 

As  for  the  coming  festivity  at  her  house,  we  know 
what  amount  of  information  she  has  shared  with  Mr. 
Don,  and  we  remember  how  she  enjoined  secrecy  upon 
Mr.  Greenwood.  Now  Mrs.  Wadham  had  given  it  to 
be  understood  that  the  forthcoming  aifair  at  her  house 
"  was  not  going  to  be  a  great  climax  of  a  party,  —  a 
ball,  or  any  thing  like  that.  It  was  just  a  pleasant  little 
entertainment,  —  that's  what  you  might  call  it,  —  an 
entertainment,  pleasant  and  agreeable,  of  course  (she 
couldn't  have  any  thing  that  wasn't  pleasant  and 
agreeable).  It  was  for  her  sons'  friends,  and  to  show 
a  little  attention  to  that  young  stranger  in  Albert's 
Form." 

Now,  to  the  Eastham  circle  that  festivity,  however 
it  might  rank  in  its  relations  to  the  great  world  of 
fashion,  was  not  a  small  thing.  It  was  an  approaching 
event;  and  intimations  had  been  fleeting  through  the 
community,  keej^ing  men's  minds,  and  maiden's  minds, 
astir. 

As  before  the  strong  wind  from  the  north  comes 
down  and  possesses  the  lands,  we  see,  up  towards  the 
pole,  a  flashing  and  glancing  like  that  from  icy  scimitars 
and  javelins  of  a  dread  spectral  array  of  fleet  Scythians, 
gathering  from  all  the  frozen  seas  and  lands ;  or  as,  on 
or  about  tlie  morning  of  the  great  St.  Martin  of  Tours, 
the  wise  eyes  that  greet  the  earlier  day  see  every- 
where a  staid,  still-standing  fog,  and  brighten  with  the 
hope  of  "  Indian  Summer,"  and,  lioping,  watch  the 
hours  until  the  sun,  all  things  now  being  ready,  sends 


350  ANTONY  DRADE. 


off  the  fog,  by  this  time  thinned  to  mist,  and  lays  all- 
open  the  smoky  haunts  of  vales  and  woodlands  where, 
never  to  be  caught,  if  followed  after,  all  things  seem 
offering  up  their  incense;  oi',  as  when  beneath  the 
league-deep  and  unlighted  seas,  while  one  or  other  con- 
tinent is  trembling  with  the  shock  of  hosts,  or  feels  the 
crash  of  rotten  empire  or  of  heart-eaten  party  going 
down,  the  Nereid  or  Triton,  whose  head  is  pillowed  on 
the  twisted  cable,  conscious,  in  sleejD,  of  thrilling  mes- 
sages that  are  passing  to  and  fro  between  the  two 
halves  of  the  world,  turns  on  the  other  side,  —  so,  before 
Mrs.  Wadham's  "entertainment,"  there  were  flashing 
intimations  and  waiting  hopes  and  thrilling  communi- 
cations, and  watching  of  signs  and  tokens. 

The  boys  of  St.  Bartholomew's  had  caught  an  ink- 
ling of  the  preparations  that  "  Wadham's  mother  was 
making  for  a  jolly  show  ; "  and  we  are  very  sure  that 
the  lucky  fellows,  of  the  three  upper  forms,  who,  it  was 
understood,  were  going,  wished  it  might  come,  although 
they  took  the  time  between  in  comfort.  Blake  regretted 
that  "he  had  an  engagement  for  that  afternoon,  but  he 
hoped  to  see  part  of  it." 

On  the  other  hand,  of  the  younger  girls  of  Eastham, 
those  who,  under  the  self-adjusting  machinery  for  in- 
taking  and  out-shutting  the  rising  candidates  for  "  so- 
ciety," might  look  forward  to  being  present,  some 
doubtless  felt,  as  some  good  and  pretty  girls,  else- 
where, that  "they  didn't  want  to  see  those  nasty  boys 
(or  those  great  ugly  boys),"  while,  to  others,  these 
youthful  men  were  radiant  with  all  that  gelatinous  and 
phosphorescent  glory  and  beauty  which,  to  the  females 
of  different  degrees  of  age,  dwelling  in  college  towns, 
clothe  the  young  forms  of  Juniors,  Sophomores  (shall 


MRS.    WADHAM'S  PARTY.  351 

we  say  Freshmen  too  ?)  preparing  to  be  the  hope  and 
light  of  the  world. 

Mrs.  Wadham  had  become  all  strong  again,  evenly 
weighted,  equal  to  every  thing. 

The  party  came.  Between  the  hours  of  half-past 
two  and  half-past  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  all  was 
to  beiiin,  go  on,  and  be  done. 

The  boys  were  early,  and  the  elders  were  not  late. 
The  lady  of  the  house  was  red  and  hot,  in  contrast  to 
the  wondrous  coldness  out  of  which  her  guests  came  in; 
for  of  the  energetic  atoms  of  her  blood  great  numbers 
were  rushing  this  way  and  that,  and  of  these  a  great 
many  were  crowded  behind  the  thick,  but  porous 
covering  of  her  face,  and  busied  themselves  with  put- 
ting forth,  in  countless  beady  drops,  a  dew  like  that 
upon  the  garden's  broader  leaves ;  but,  hot  or  other- 
wise, she  was  Mrs.  Wadham. 

Miss  Minette  had  on  a  gay  company  manner,  and  was 
very  lively  with  the  gentlemen  from  St.  Bartholomew's, 
and  with  some  of  its  boys. 

The  house  was  fragrant  Avith  sweet  flowers,  and  warm 
as  the  balmiest  days  of  spring;  and  so  Mr.  Parmenter, 
and  so  others,  told  the  hostess. 

Mr.  Greenwood,  bright  and  bustling,  moved  about 
the  rooms  with  prompt  and  lively  bow  and  recovery, 
making  every  one  feel  at  home  and  curious  for  the 
pleasant  little  entertainment,  which  was  to  make  one 
of  the  chief  occupations  of  the  afternoon. 

Among  the  guests  the  city-gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, with  their  families,  appeared,  of  course.  Mr. 
Manson,  with  the  Rector  of  the  School  and  one  or  two 
of  the  Trustees  (of  course.  Dr.  Farwell,  and  his  Com- 
mittee), were  there.     There,  too,   of  course,  was  Mr. 


352  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Parmenter.  A  select  number  of  the  younger  Easthara 
people,  including  the  young  Misses  Bemis  and  Miss 
Ryan,  were  there ;  and,  not  to  be  too  particular,  there 
was  the  estimable  widow,  Mrs.  Osborn,  sought  out 
by  all  the  more  gallant  gentlemen  as  very  bright  and 
chatty. 

Brade  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Osborn  and  some 
younger  ladies,  and  satisfied  all  reasonable  demands, 
in  being  neither  pert  nor  sheepish.  Remsen  shared  in 
the  attention  paid  to  his  friend.  Brade  himself  put 
forward  Peters,  and  brought  him  out  as  much  as  he 
would  bear. 

Russell  was  there,  and  Lamson,  and  Gaston,  and 
Meadows,  and  Hutchins,  and  Towne.  Our  friend  Blake 
was  missed. 

Boys,  with  fresh-trimmed  hair  and  careful  neck-ties, 
in  twos  and  threes  and  half-dozens,  ready  for  fun,  and 
more  or  less  full  of  it,  were  everywhere. 

The  Russian  Ambassador,  "  without,"  as  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham  said,  "  affording  any  explanation  —  not  the  least " 
—  was  absent.  "  Mr.  Greenwood,"  she  said,  "  had  done 
the  best  he  could,  under  the  circumstances ; "  and  this 
information  Mr.  Greenwood  supplemented  by  saying 
modestly  that  "  he  had  told  'em  to  scare  up  the  foreign- 
est-looking  fellow  they  could  find,  among  those  Russian 
consuls,  and  send  him  on." 

This  was  Mr.  Greenwood's  information  to  the  com- 
pany ;  but  to  Mrs.  Wadham  he  had  given  privately  a 
much  more  important  piece  of  intelligence :  "  He  was 
sure,  he  told  her,  there  was  something  between  Brade 
and  that  Count  Blakisofi"." 

"  How  do  you  mean  something  between  'em  ? "  she 
asked,  gravely,  being  not  disposed  to  accept  statements 


MBS.    WADEAM'S  PAETY.  853 

without  sufficient  examination,  even  when  time  was 
very  pressing,  and  not  disposed  to  have  other  people 
thread  her  mysteries  for  her,  or  get  the  start  of  her  in 
finding  information. 

"  Nearly  connected,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  feeling  the 
pressure  of  time,  —  "family  relation.  That's  why  the 
Count's  round  here  incog.  He's  under  an  assumed 
name." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  an  assumed  name?"  she 
asked.  "  You  mean  that  Blacksop  isn't  his  name  ? 
What  is  his  name  ?  " 

It  was  evident  that,  even  if  time  pressed,  she  felt  the 
importance  of  using  time. 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  very  far  off,  a  little  disguised. 
When  there  was  a  king  of  Naples,  he  travelled  as  Conte 
di  Palermo ;  King  of  France,  Comte  de  Versailles  ; 
Benjamin  Thompson,  Count  Rumford.  —  Must  have  an 
eye  to  this  fellow.     Watch  him  with  Brade." 

"  All ! "  said  Mrs.  Wadham,  receiving  his  information 
without  any  formal  acknowledgment,  and  reserving 
herself  for  her  own  judgment  and  guidance. 

This  hurried  conversation  had  been  snatched  in  the 
very  midst  of  tlie  throng  of  duties. 

The  Count  Blakisoff's  remarkable  appearance  more 
than  confirmed  Mr.  Greenwood's  account  of  the  stand- 
ard by  which  he  had  been  picked  out  for  a  guest  of 
Mrs.  Wadham.  Although,  like  many  eminent  men 
from  other  lands,  he  was  not  large,  yet  he  had  his 
sandy,  northern  hair  brushed  down  over  his  forehead, 
and  yet  brushed  out  to  right  and  left  with  such  per- 
fect soldierly  smoothness,  and  on  his  face  bore  such 
an  amount  of  sand-colored  hairy  clothing,  trimmed 
to   so  great  variety  of  ornamental  shape,  —  as  whis- 

w 


354  ANTONY  BRADE. 

kers  sweeping *out  over  his  shoulders ;  lip-locks  drawn 
across  each  way  so  stiffly  and  so  far  as  to  seem 
to  court  collision  and  affront ;  his  very  eyebrows 
spreading  out  strongly  to  each  side  beyond  his  tem- 
ples ;  beside  these  a  chin-beard  going  down  and 
tapering  to  a  strong  point  ;  to  say  nothing  of  his 
yellow  gloves  and  the  "  frogs "  upon  his  queer-looking 
coat,  enough  to  overrun  half  Lower  Egypt,  —  that  who- 
ever lifted  up  his  eyes  in  any  direction  could  not  fail  to 
see  this  wondrous  man.  Many  were  looking  at  him  al- 
most all  the  time  ;  and  some  of  them,  considering  that  he 
was  a  foreigner,  took  turns  in  staring  at  him  and  then 
facing  about  and  making  fun  of  him.  The  lady  of  the 
house  herself  talked  of  him  at  a  short  distance,  much 
as  she  might  talk  of  a  horse  or  a  lamp-post. 

She  carefully  discharged  the  duties  of  a  hostess  by 
bringing  up  one  and  another  with  tlie  address  "  Count 

(I  don't  remember  his  name),  this  is  my  friend 

(Dr.  Farwell,  or  Mr.  Parmenter,  or  Mr.  Merritt,  or  Mr. 
Don),"  and  commending  them  (to  herself)  as  they 
bowed  and  were  bowed  at  with  the  brief  words,  half- 
aside,  "That's  it,"  as  if  both  she  and  they  had  acquitted 
themselves  well  in  a  foreign  language. 

Of  all  the  Russian  nationalities,  the  general  conclu- 
sion was  that  this  gentleman  was  a  Cossack  ;  and  most 
people  were  satisfied  with  Mr.  Greenwood's  assurance 
that  "  he  himself  was  one  of  the  few  persons  in  this 
country,  probably,  to  whom  the  Cossack  language 
presented  no  difficulty  whatever." 

Now,  foreigners  are  not  insensible ;  and,  where  their 
honest  ears  have  never  been  attuned  to  the  jargon  of 
our  English  speech,  their  eyes  are  delicate  of  intuition, 
and  their  hearts  quick  to  feel,  in  a  strange  land.     Mr. 


3IRS.  WADHAM'S  PARTY.  355 

Greenwood  was  not  unmindful  of  the  claims  of  hospi- 
tality, hut  came  from  time  to  time  (of  course  his  time 
was  precious),  and  made  a  point  of  treating  the  well- 
bearded  guest  with  marked  attention.  He  told  Mrs. 
Wadham,  aside,  on  one  of  those  excursions,  that  "  he 
had  not  shown  him  Brade,  till  by  and  by ;  and  this  was 
the  most  extraordinary  fellow,  —  Russian  to  the  back- 
bone,—  not  an  English  word  in  him." 

To  Mr.  Greenwood's  ceremonious  attentions,  the 
foreigner  responded,  mostly,  by  solemn  inclinations  of 
the  body.  His  words  were  very  few,  although  these 
few  were  often  so  effective  as  to  amuse  the  only  intel- 
ligent hearer  (Mr.  Greenwood)  very  much,  and  make 
him,  before  returning  a  sprightly  answer,  look  round  to 
see  whether  some  little  intelligence  of  the  wit  or  wis- 
dom might  not  make  its  way  to  others.  "  He's  a  Rus- 
sian of  the  first  water,  —  or  rather  ice,"  he  assured  the 
company,  on  leaving  him.  It  added  to  the  force  of  the 
Cossack  gentleman's  wit  that  he  Avas  never  once  seen 
to  smile. 

"  But  how's  he  going  to  do  business  at  the  Custom 
House,"  asked  one  of  the  city-men,  "  if  he  don't  know 
any  English  ?  " 

Antony  Brade,  of  whom  all  the  guests  had  doubtless 
heard  more  or  less,  not  only  had  much  made  of  him 
by  the  hostess,  and  was  encouraged  by  Mrs.  Osborn's 
amusing  herself  with  him,  and  was  introduced  to  the 
INIisses  Bemis  and  others,  but  also,  we  may  be  sure,  ex- 
changed a  look  or  two  (not  many),  and  a  word  or  two 
(under  a  little  embarrassment)  with  Miss  Kate  Ryan,  who 
was  with  them.  As  it  was  lie,  chiefly,  with  whom  this 
"  entertainment "  of  Mrs.  Wadham's  was  associated,  he 
was  well  looked  at  and  admired,  —  mostly  by  the  female 


356  ANTONY  BRADE. 

part  of  the  company,  —  while  there  were  some,  both 
male  and  female,  who  said  that  he  looked  much  like 
any  other  boy.  He  certainly  took  things  very  quietly, 
and  enjoyed  himself  simply  and  freely,  as  a  boy  with 
fresh  clean  blood  in  him  ought  to  enjoy  himself.  The 
boys,  generally,  talked  and  laughed,  among  themselves, 
and  moved  about ;  and  so  did  Brade. 

Ml".  Don  confessed  that  he  had  two  desires  which  he 
hoped,  somehow,  to  have  gratified,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening ;  and  these  were  to  have  a  little  communica- 
tion with  the  Count  Blakisoff,  "  who  had  to  him,"  he 
said,  "very  much  the  appearance  of  the  ideal  Russian," 
and  to  bring  young  Brade  into  communication  with  that 
nobleman. 

The  hostess  had  arranged  for  the  boys  having  a  good 
feed,  soon  after  they  got  to  the  house.  "  Boys  like  to 
eat,"  she  said,  "  and  I'd  give  'em  plenty.  'Taint  as  'tis 
with  grown-up  people :  after  they've  eaten,  boys  want 
to  go  right  at  something.  We  can  put  'em  to  acting 
right  away.  My  Edmund  and  Albert'll  both  be  there, 
among  'em,"  she  added. 

This  plan,  therefore,  was  adopted  ;  and  while  the  elder 
guests,  among  themselves,  talked  of  the  last  change  of 
hours  upon  the  Railway ;  of  whether  anybody  could  re- 
member a  year  in  which  the  Rock-crystal  Ice  Company 
had  begun  cutting  so  early  as  that  year  (having,  as  one 
of  the  city-men  said,  a  heavy  contract  to  fill) ;  of  the 
last  demand  of  "  The  Welded  Workingmen"  (of  whom 
Mr.  Greenwood  absurdly  said  that  "  he  would  rather 
hear  of  a  iew  well-doing  workingmen,  than  of  any  num- 
ber that  had  well-did  ")  ;  and  while  they  handled  the 
statuettes,  and  pulled  some  leaves  of  the  geraniums, 
there  came  in  to  them  such  sounds  as  a  crowd  of  boys 


MRS.   WAD  HAM'S  PARTY.  357 

make,  wlien  they  are  stuffing  their  mouths  so  fast  and 
80  full  that  the  words  have  to  climb  over  lumps  of 
frozen  cream  or  salad,  and  junks  of  cake,  and  yet  are 
jabbering  with  every  mouth  of  them  all.  These  things, 
taken  together,  were  appetizing  to  mouths  and  stomachs 
more  advanced  in  years. 

"  Did  you  ever  observe,"  asked  Dr.  Farwell  of  Mr. 
Manson,  —  and  his  eyes  twinkled  merrily,  —  "what  a 
sympathy  there  is  between  people's  stomachs?  You 
may  convince  their  heads  "  (emphatic,  with  an  accom- 
panying gesture  of  the  shut  hand,  with  the  thumb  on 
top,  brought  towai'd  the  breast),  "  you  may  persuade 
their  hearts  "  (with  like  emphasis  and  gesture)  ;  "  but 
give  'em  roast  turkey  "  (emphasis  and  gesture  as  before), 
"give  'em  fried  oysters,  give  'em  chicken  salad,  and  you've 
got  'em  '■toiff  ropmo  /'*  (Now,  Merritt,  don't  you  be 
laughing  at  my  French  :  it's  very  good  French)." 

Mr.  Parmenter  was  mannerly  and  inclined  to  impres- 
sive conversation.  His  approach  to  Mrs.  Osborn  was 
particularly  ceremonious  and  polite  ;  Mr.  Don,  at  the 
same  time,  retiring  from  her  side  with  the  remark  that 
"  he  was  glad  to  have  his  place  so  well  occupied," 

The  din  of  boys  began  to  slacken  ;  and  Mr.  Green- 
wood, who  had  appeared  and  disappeared,  continually, 
announced  from  the  middle  of  the  folding-doors,  "  An 
entertainment  consisting  of  a  piece  of  the  life  of  a  great 
foreign  people,  —  the  Russian."  The  word  caught  the 
general  ear ;  and  a  little  buzz  of  questioning,  together 
with  a  looking  round  to  see  where  the  exhibition  was 
or  what  place  it  was  to  come  from,  followed.     Boys 

*  The  French  of  our  excellent  divine  is  a  little  peculiar. 
Judged  by  the  ear,  this  was  probably  meant  for  what  some  would 
pronounce  "  en  rapport." 


358  ANTONY  BRADE. 

with  marks  of  feeding  on  them  began  to  come  in;  littlo 
Meadows,  with  his  mouth  still  full  and  active,  and  witli 
a  piece  of  cake  in  his  hand. 

A  most  inspiriting  strain  from  a  French  horn,  wliich 
the  boys  all  greeted,  with  subdued  acclamation,  as 
"  Ned  Prouty,  from  the  village,"  stirred  up  the  blood 
in  an  instant,  and  then  stopped  as  suddenly,  in  the 
midst  of  a  note,  as  if  it  had  been  killed.  Then,  at  a 
side  of  one  of  the  larger  rooms,  into  what  some  of  the 
gentlemen,  who  were  not  unintelligent,  thought  was 
surely  the  supper-room,  but  afterwards  determined  to  be 
"  that  big  library-room  of  Mrs.  Wadhnm's,"  folding-doors 
were  opened,  and  then  silence  crept  over  almost  all  the 
company.  A  movement  took  place  to  secure  good 
stands  for  seeing ;  Mr.  Parmenter  gallantly  helping 
Mrs.  Osborn  forward,  and  Hutchins  and  Remsen  and 
Towne  and  Wadham  First  doing  the  same  for  the 
Misses  Bemis  and  others.  Kate  Ryan,  who,  as  Hutchins 
said,  was,  by  all  odds,  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  room,  was 
not  to  be  found. 

The  hostess,  having  seen  her  guests  arranged,  took 
the  foreign  nobleman,  with  words  in  English,  and  a 
wave  of  the  hand  in  the  language  of  nature,  and  sta- 
tioned herself  and  him  at  a  side  door  from  the  entry,  in 
full  view. 

Mrs.  Wadham  announced  that  "all  this  was  Mr. 
Greenwood's,  she  had  left  it  all  to  him." 

The  room  Avhich  had  just  been  opened  had  been 
wondrously  fitted  up.  An  ice-hill,  down  which  a  host 
of  capped  and  furred  and  mittened  people  were  going 
on  hand-sleds,  as  if  for  their  lives,  made  a  side  scene. 
An  icy  plain  stretched  from  this  side  to  the  other,  with 
booths  and  tents,  and  a  prospect  of  domes  and  towers 


MliS.    WADHAM'S  PARTY.  359 

beyond.  At  the  left  side  was  a  throne,  gorgeous  to 
look  at,  and  on  it  sat  a  royally-dressed  young  person, 
with  a  resplendent  and  far  flashing  diadem  above  his 
commanding  brow.  Over  his  head  was  a  rich  canopy,  on 
whose  front  was  an  eagle,  with  a  most  imperial  crown. 

"  The  river  Neva,  in  winter,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood. 
"  St.  Petersbu7-g  close  by  !  " 

It  was  a  splendid  scene  of  ice  and  snow. 

"  It  makes  you  cold  all  over,  doesn't  it  ?  "  said  a  boy's 
voice.  It  was  from  Peters,  whose  fancy  was  lively,  and 
whose  speech  was  impulsive.  He  had  not  heeded  the 
general  stillness,  and  Avas  abashed,  when  he  found  that 
he  had  made  himself  heard  by  the  whole  company. 

"  Wouldn't  I  like  to  be  on  one  of  those  hand-sleds  ?  " 
said  Towne,  with  much  less  unconsciousness. 

"  Who's  that  king  or  Avhatever  he  is  ?  "  asked  a  good 
many  of  the  company.  "  Is  this  Master  Brade  ?  "  Mr. 
Parmenter  asked. 

The  boys  applauded ;  a  buzz  of  approbation  went 
over  the  whole  room ;  while  in  a  little  louder  voice, 
but  not  obtrusively,  Mr.  Parmenter  called  Mrs.  Osborn's 
attention  to  "  the  happy  effects  of  the  various-colored 
booths ; "  and  Mr.  Don,  to  Miss  Minette,  admired  the 
general  gorgeousness  of  every  thing.  Mrs.  Wadham 
announced  that  Mr.  Greenwood  would  explain. 

Mr.  Greenwood,  the  Master  of  Ceremonies,  spoke 
aloud  :  — 

"  It  had  been  the  purpose  of  his  Majesty,  the  Empe- 
ror," said  he,  "  in  providing  this  entertainment,  to  have 
it  accomj^anied  by  a  series  of  Russian  airs ;  but,  as  the 
Russian  air  is  harsher  than  we  are  accustomed  to 
breathe  (and  our  own"  —  shrugging  his  shoulders  — 
"is  cold  enough,  just  now,  in  all  conscience),  it  was 


360  ANTONY  BRADE. 


thought  best  to  modify  the  programme.  Yoii  have  be- 
fore you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  in  a  compact  form,  '  the 
Heir  of  all  the  Russias.' " 

Miss  Minette  made  her  part  of  the  room  very  lively, 
—  a  little  noisy,  perhaps,  but  very  lively. 

There  was  a  general  good-nature,  and  everybody 
laughed,  unless,  perhaps,  the  Cossack  gentleman  ;  and 
then  a  dead  silence  came  again,  into  which  was  uttered 
the  last  part  of  some  pointed  sentence  which  Mr.  Mer- 
ritt  was  utteiing  to  Dr.  Farwell,  under  cover  of  the 
general  excitement. 

"  —  the  air  of  it,  hasn't  he  ?" 

As  soon  as  a  new  buzz  of  applause,  at  the  Czarevitch's 
graceful  salutation  of  the  company,  offered  another 
"  cover,"  the  Doctor  reciprocated  (for  wise  men  show 
their  wisdom  in  nothing  better  than  in  their  unbending) 
by  saying,  with  his  eyes  twinkling,  "  Pie's  an  aiVrogant- 
looking  fellow,  certainly." 

So  the  divines  were  evidently  not  without  their  share 
of  the  general  hilarity. 

The  Master  of  Ceremonies  continued :  — 

"  The  Czarevitch  (vitch  is  the  Czar  that's  going  to 
be),  on  coming  to  his  throne,  takes  it  out  with  him,  and 
seats  himself  upon  it.  The  scene  that  follows  is  to 
exhibit  to  the  world  the  fact  that  that  which  is  supposed 
to  be  one  of  the  strictest  despotisms  is  consistent  with 
the  most  absolute  democracy.  You  will  see  the  Rus- 
sians exercise  one  of  their  dearest  prerogatives,  —  that 
of  shooting  at  the  crown.  This  privilege  is  common  to 
the  lowest  and  the  highest,  and  lasts  three  days.  We 
shall  let  you  off  with  two  of  them.  The  weather,  you 
observe,  is  wintry ;  but  it's  warm  work,  as  you  may 
suppose ;  so  the  Czarevitch  will  be  able  to  keep  himself 
comfortable,  in  that  respect." 


MRS.   WADHAM'S  PARTY.  361 

Mr.  Don,  while  the  amateur  Master  of  Ceremonies 
was  giving  this  information,  had,  on  his  tiptoes,  lightly 
found  his  way  across,  and  taken  his  silent  stand  beside 
the  Cossack,  to  whom,  on  approaching,  he  had  gone 
through  with  a  lavish  dumb  show,  of  bows  and  wavings 
of  the  hand ;  and  pointing  to  himself  and.  then  to  the 
floor,  by  way  of  implying,  in  the  language  of  universal 
nature,  that  he  intended  to  occupy  that  spot;  while  a 
third  pointing,  to  the  courteous  foreigner,  implied  that 
its  being  near  him  gave  the  place  its  gi*eat  attraction. 

Mr.  Don  was  not  wrong  in  expecting  to  be  met  half- 
way, in  the  language  of  universal  nature.  The  foreign 
gentleman  talked  it  with  shoulders  and  elbows,  and 
hand  laid  to  his  frog-covered  heart,  wonderfully. 

The  performance  divided  the  attention  of  a  consid- 
erable part  of  the  company,  even  with  the  lively  Mas- 
ter of  Ceremonies  and  the  counterfeit  presentment  of 
the  Czarevitch  ;  and  the  sight  of  this  intelligent  foreigner 
engaged  in  a  well-meant  attempt  to  exchange  courtesies 
with  a  polite  American  was  too  much  for  the  self-con- 
trol of  most  of  the  younger,  and  a  good  many  of  the 
older  witnesses  of  it.  It  must  be  confessed  that  there 
was  something  extremely  droll  —  at  times,  perhaps,  to 
excitable  spirits,  overpoweringly  droll  —  in  the  look  of 
the  distinguished  guest. 

Our  young  friend  who  represented  Russian  empire 
showed  himself  made  of  stuff  like  other  mortals,  when 
the  man  happened,  while  looking  his  very  soleranest,  to 
lay  his  foreign  forefinger  by  his  nose.  The  Cossack 
gentleman  was  again  the  object  of  thoughtless  mirth. 
His  own  behavior,  meanwhile,  was  exceedingly  digni- 
fied, as  he  employed  his  hands  on  the  abundant  hair 
of  his  face. 
16 


362  ANTONY  BRADE. 

The  breach  of  good  manners  grieved  those  who  hud 
good  manners  most  at  heart.  Mr.  Parmenter  liad  not 
been  unobservant  or  indifferent ;  and,  in  behalf  of  pro- 
priety and  hospitality,  uttered  aloud  the  statement 
that  "  he  should  be  sorry  to  see  any  forgetfulness  of  the 
laws  of  courtesy,  and  was  confident  that  nothing  of 
that  sort  would  take  place." 

The  lady  of  the  house  was  herself  mistress  of  the 
occasion. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  said,  "  that  we  enjoy  him  "  ("  His  ap- 
pearance is  certainly  peculiar,"  she  said,  without  much 
sinking  of  voice,  to  those  about  her,  because  she  knew 
that  he  could  not  understand  more  than  one  person  in 
the  room,  or,  possibly,  two),  "  and  tell  him  there'll  be 
refreshments  after  the  play  about  his  country.  That 
goes  to  foreigners'  hearts  as  quick  as  anybody's  :  every- 
body understands  eating." 

While  Mr.  Greenwood  was  giving  this  agreeable 
message  to  the  noble  foreigner,  a  voice  was  heard,  in 
moderate  but  prevailing  tones,  from  a  corner  in  which 
a  number  of  gentlemen  were  gathered :  — 

"That's  singular,  now.  How  can  you  account  for 
that  coincidence  ?  That's  the  very  thing  I  was  saying 
a  little  while  ago." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Manson,  "and  you  observe  she  says 
there'll  be  '  ung  repaw '  pretty  soon,  too." 

"  Not  quite  the  Parisian  accent,  perhaps,  but "  — 

"  Pretty  good  !  "  said  Mr.  Merritt,  who,  as  we"  have 
seen,  can  make  some  pretensions  in  the  languages : 
"w/i  repas,  a  feed." 

Mr.  Greenwood  was  quick-witted  and  ready  enough 
to  devote  a  little  side  attention  to  his  Cossack  noble- 
man.    He  interrupted  himself:  — 


MRS.    WADEAM'S  PARTY.  363 

"My friend,"  he  Scaid,  "the  Count Ultrovian  Blakisoff 
has  the  remarkable  versatiUty  and  the  wonderful  facility 
for  languages  which  make  his  countrymen  so  desirable 
to  colleges  and  places  of  education.  Entirely  unac- 
quainted with  English,  he  can  instantly  master  the 
phonetic  signs,  when  written  distinctly,  which  represent 
it  on  paper.  While  the  Czarevitch  is  waiting  impa- 
tiently, as  yoii  see  him,  for  the  performances  of  hia 
dilatory  subjects  to  begin,  the  Count  may,  perhaps,  be 
persuaded  to  gratify  us  in  a  way  that  will  astonish 
those  to  whom  opportunities  of  witnessing  such  ac- 
complishments are  rare." 

There  was  now  a  decent  silence,  and  the  faces  of  the 
company  were  generally  smoothed.  The  representative 
of  Muscovite  majesty  recovered  himself.  Mr.  Green- 
wood, with  an  elegant  stride,  and  placing  the  heel  of 
his  right  foot  in  the  hollow  of  his  left,  with  such  an 
air  as  almost  to  disturb  again  the  general  gravity, 
planted  himself  in  front  of  the  Count,  and,  drawing 
wdth  a  flourish  from  his  pocket  a  paper  on  which  were 
a  few  musical  notes  and  some  words,  presented  it  with 
a  low  bow  to  the  foreigner,  and  said  something  which 
was  not  English.  He  then  hastened  to  the  side  of 
the  scenes,  and  apparently  gave  a  direction. 

The  Count  took  the  paper  with  as  much  gesture  as 
he  had  before  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Don,  held  it  at  arm's 
length,  and  suddenly  burst  forth  in  song  :  — 

"  Mee  langguklgc  ees  the  Roosshin  tongs  ; 
Hi  spake  hit  like  a  buck ; " 

And  then,  with  the  modesty  and  simplicity  character- 
istic of  accomplished  foreigners  when  they  have  distin- 
guished themselves,  solemnly  handed  the  paper  back. 


364  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Do  they  grow  Cossacks  in  Ireland  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  city-men ;  and  to  more  purpose  Avas  heard  the 
wise  voice  of  Dr.  Farwell,  asking  whether  a  plienom- 
enon  of  that  soi*t — a  man's  singing  right  off,  in  a 
language  that  was  perfectly  strange  to  him  —  was  to 
be  explained  in  the  same  way  that  a  stutterer  could 
sing  a  thing  that  he  couldn't  read  a  word  of 

This  revelation  was,  as  Mr.  Greenwood  had  predicted, 
sufficiently  astonishing ;  and  the  rooms  were  all  in  a 
flutter.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  all  faces 
were  serious ;  for  there  had  been  something  a  little 
peculiar,  after  all,  in  the  pronunciation  and  accent, 
and  the  voice  —  for  a  voice  coming  out  of  such  an 
ambush  of  hair  —  was  rather  slender ;  but  just  then 
Ned  Prouty's  all-enlivening  horn  took  captive  every 
ear,  as  it  struck  up  "  March  to  the  Battle-field !  " 

Mr.  Don  was  a  man  ready  for  occasions.  With  an 
intelligent  look  he  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  foreign 
linguist  a  soiled  and  crumpled  bit  of  paper,  like  the 
"document"  which  we  have  seen,  to  which  paper  he 
pointed,  and  of  which  he  asked,  with  a  most  expressive 
raising  of  the  eyebrows  and  throwing  of  the  head  on 
one  side,  a  question  whose  "  waste  "  alone,  like  water 
from  a  mill-wheel,  ran  out  in  the  words  :  "  This  ?  any- 
thing?" its  strength  having  been  spent  in  the  face 
above. 

The  stranger,  with  his  hand  again  upon  his  frog- 
enveloped  heart,  looked  at  the  paper,  and  to  the  ques- 
tion in  the  universal  language  assented  strongly  with 
his  head. 

This  scene  had  not  been  lost  upon  the  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Wadham,  who  turned  and  watched  it  closely. 

Suddenly  a  shot  was  heard,  and  the  representative  of 


MRS.   WADEAM'S  PARTY.  365 

majesty  put  his  hand  to  his  head.  Of  course  all  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  stage,  and  all  was  still;  a  smell 
of  gunpowder  mingled  itself  with  the  sweet  scents 
of  flowers  and  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

This  time  no  harm  had  been  done  apparently. 

Mrs.  Wadham  declared  that  "  she  supposed  her  time 
was  come  :  she  never  could  stand  fire-arms."  Some  of 
the  gentlemen  jocosely  asked  "  Champagne  ?  " 

The  Manager  assured  the  company  that  "probably 
few,  if  any,  bullets  of  lead  remained  in  the  rifles,  as  he 
had  employed  a  careful  hand,  with  a  No.  3  Faber's 
lead-pencil,  to  draw  all  the  balls,  and  substitute  some- 
thing more  comfortable." 

The  little  descent  from  dignity  in  this  about  the 
pencil  was  probably  intended  for  a  certain  class  of 
minds.     The  boys  appreciated  it. 

"  I  think  I  may  safely  assure  the  ladies,  on  Mr.  Green- 
wood's authority,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  "  there  is  not 
the  slightest  danger." 

A  voice  from  the  group  of  Trustees  in  the  cornei*, 
which  our  readers  may  be  able  to  assign  to  its  owner, 
said,  "  I  think  I  should  bawl  if  I  was  that  chap  on  the 
throne." 

The  ladies  moved  uneasily.  Some  of  the  gentle- 
men, laughingly,  thought  it  was  time  to  adjourn.  A 
lovely  female  figure  rushed  upon  the  stage,  in  splendid 
robes  that  matched  the  Czarevitch's.  "  That's  Miss 
Ryan  !  "  said  the  Bemises  ;  and  then  a  Russian  of  the 
Russians,  with  sheepskin  hat,  coat,  trousers,  mittens, 
and  boots,  and  a  beard  of  much  the  same  general 
character,  appeared.  He  and  his  wife  and  seven  chil- 
dren, in  a  line,  bore  his  formidable  weapon.  He  kneeled 
upon  his  knees,  first  took  off  his  hat  in  obeisance  to  his 


366  ANTONY  BRADE. 

liege  lord,  and  then,  resuming  it,  he  and  his  family 
arranged  the  gun  iij^on  their  shoulders,  in  a  slope  up  to 
the  wife !  and  so  it  reached  from  him,  squatting  at  one 
side  of  the  stage,  close  up  to  the  princely  potentate's 
crown,  with  his  head  inside,  at  the  other. 

"  Your  scene  is  very  Avell  got  up  indeed,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Don  ;  "  but  I  hardly  think  they  would  let  the  man 
get  quite  so  close." 

"True,  sir,"  said  the  Master  of  Ceremonies.  "In 
point  of  fact  they  do  not  allow  such  dangerous  prox- 
imity. It's  only  the  exigency  of  circumstances.  Our 
room  is  so  narroAV  that  we  have  to  crowd  a  little.  You 
see  a  gun  fifteen  feet  long  (the  usual  length  of  the  weap- 
ons used  on  these  occasions),  in  a  room  eighteen  or 
twenty  feet  wide,  crowds  us." 

This  was  a  mere  mimic  scene  ;  and  yet,  when  this 
long,  dreadful-looking  weapon  reached  to  such  flital 
neighborhood  of  the  boy's  head,  the  Count,  clasping  his 
hands,  threw  himself  into  a  marvellous  foreign  attitude 
of  despair.  This  Mr.  Don,  as  we  should  expect,  appre- 
ciated ;  while  the  boys,  and  many  beside  them,  seemed 
not  at  all  touched  by  the  gravity  of  the  situation. 
Mrs,  Wadham,  ahiiost  pale  at  the  appearance  of  the 
gun,  but  bravely  kee[)ing  her  ground,  at  tlie  crisis, 
turned  away  from  the  threatening  weapon  ;  but  did 
not  forget  to  see  what  the  Count  was  doing. 

Mr.  Parmenter  gallantly  advanced  Mrs.  Osborn 
nearer  to  the  scene,  remarking  that  "there  was  a 
great  deal  of  merit  in  it,  —  it  would  bear  inspection." 
He  delicately  replaced  her  light  shawl  which  had  fallen 
from  one  slioulder. 

"  The  Grand  Duchess  Alexandrovna  "  (explained  Mr. 
Greenwood)  "  interposes  her  efforts  (which  the  law  of 


MRS.    WADIIAM'S  PARTY.  367 

Russia  provides  for)  to  persuade  this  resolute  Muscovite 
to  forego  his  privilege.  You  see  her  appealing  to  his 
veneration  for  the  sacred  person  on  the  throne :  he 
squats  unmoved :  to  his  humanity :  he  puts  tobacco  in 
his  cheek,  and  lays  his  finger  —  I  should  say  his  mit- 
ten —  on  the  trigger  !  " 

Here  Mr.  Greenwood  made  what  might  be  called  a 
rhetorical  pause,  to  let  the  scene  take  its  full  effect. 

"  That  fellow  with  the  gun's  Gaston  —  or  Lamson  : 
M'here's  Lamson  ?  "  said  Tom  Hutchins.  —  "  Ain't  Brade 
good  ?  "  said  Peters. 

The  Czarevitch  sat  with  a  lofty  indiiference  to  danger 
becomino:  his  hicfh  blood  :  his  look  of  disgust,  as  he 
saw  the  death-dealing  muzzle  so  near,  and  glanced 
down  the  sloping  backs  of  the  enterprising  family 
which  bore  it,  and  as  he  shook  out  his  dainty  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  held  it  between  the  frightful  instru- 
ment and  himself,  called  forth  immediate  and  universal 
applause. 

"  A  good  deal  of  the  dramatic  gift  there,"  said  Mr. 
Parmenter,  who  generally  spoke  well.  "  That  fellow's 
got  it  in  him."  "There's  fun  in  that  boy,"  said  the 
city-gentlemen  :  and  indeed  he  was  excellent,  and  hand- 
some, too.  The  Grand-duchess,  who  at  the  applause 
had  glanced  that  way,  seemed  struck,  and  apparently 
forgot  herself;  and  then  came  back  with  a  little 
start. 

Wliile  tliis  was  going  on,  the  Count  (not  unobserved 
by  that  considerate  man,  Mr.  Don)  was  restless,  and 
seemed  about  to  go  forward.  Tlie  mind  of  Mr.  Don 
wns  active,  and  doubtless  weighed  the  emotions  by 
which  tl)e  bosom  of  the  foreigner  was  agitated. 

Did   he   uu<k'rstaud   lliat  this    was    onlv  "acting"? 


368  ANTONY  BBADE. 

Perhaps  he  was  a  partner  in  the  scene.  Mr.  Don 
humanely  and  politely  (whatever  might  be  the  case 
with  the  Count)  addressed  him,  and  accompanied  the 
address  with  lucid  gesture.  He  smiled  also,  at  the 
same  time,  as  if  to  show  that  he  knew  peifectly  how 
intelligent  the  Count  was. 

"  Of  course,  sir,  there's  no  danger,"  he  said  ;  "  they've 
taken  all  precautions,"  shaking  his  head  vehemently, 
and  throwing  his  hands  asunder,  rapidly,  several  times. 
"Ha!  I  can't  make  him  understand.  I  suppose  he 
knows."  Then  to  the  stranger  again,  with  new  energy, 
"  Of  course  'it's  all  make-believe  !  "  and  he  shook  his 
head  vehemently  again.  "  Nothing  in  it,  sir."  Then 
he  smiled  strongly,  and  said,  "  You  understand,  of 
course." 

Mrs.  Wadham,  divided  between  alarm  for  the  issue 
of  the  Princess's  entreaties  to  stay  the  deadly  firearm, 
and  her  interest  in  the  secret  whose  development  was, 
perhaps,  to  be  hastened  by  the  progress  of  the  play, 
held  up  her  fan  between  herself  and  the  actors,  and  from 
time  to  time  looked  over  it.  Mr.  Greenwood  went  on  :  — 

"  The  Princess  having  failed  in  her  appeal  to  his  ven- 
eration, and  to  his  humanity,  now  addresses  the  father 
of  a  family  with  another  argument.  See  how  she  lays 
her  hand  first  upon  the  bending  wife,  looking  appeal- 
ingly  to  him  ;  and  then  upon  each  successive  bearer 
of  that  frightful  weapon,  from  the  first-born  daughter, 
down  through  alternate  sons  and  daughters  to  the  last, 
the  joy  of  his  father's  eyes,  whom  you  see  innocently 
occupied  and  amused  with  his  own  small  nose.  At 
each  she  utters  a  few  heart-moving  words,  and  casts  the 
same  pathetic  and  appealing  glance  to  the  father.  She 
is  urging  ui^on  him  the  likelihood  (too  often  warranted 


MRS.    WADHAM'S  PARTY.  369 

by  melancholy  facts,  in  that  country)  that  his  gun  will 
burst,  and  so  kill  every  member  of  his  household,  lie 
is  unmoved.  Now,  having,  with  the  instinctive  sagacity 
of  a  woman,  reserved  her  crowning  argument  for  the 
last,  she  shows  him  that,  in  all  probability,  it  will  kill 
him,  too.  He  wavers.  He  might  get  along  without  his 
family  ;  how  could  he  get  along  without  himself?  Now 
she  lays  her  gentle  hand  upon  the  instrument  of  death, 
to  draw  it  from  its  fatal  aim." 

The  "  Princess  Alexandrovna,"  of  this  little  stage, 
was  certainly  a  lovely  being.  If  royal  or  imperial 
houses  have  so  fair  daughters  often,  they  are  happy ; 
and  so  the  company  seemed  to  think ;  for,  led  by  Mr. 
Parmenter,  there  was  a  general  round  of  applause,  in 
which  Tom  Hutchins  and  the  boys  helped,  to  the  echo. 
Even  the  Count  joined  the  prevailing  enthusiasm;  but, 
in  his  foreign  way,  checked  himself,  after  a  few  most 
hearty  clappings  of  his  yellow-gloved  hands,  while  all 
the  rest  were  going  on,  and  stood  mute  and  wonderful  to 
look  at  as  before  ;  but  every  one,  unless  the  Czarevitch, 
was  looking  at  the  stage.  No  one  seemed  to  enjoy  him- 
self with  more  quiet  thoroughness  than  the  Rector  of  the 
School,  to  whom  Mr.  Manson  called  his  neighbors' 
attention. 

The  Czarovna  Alexandrovna  was  drawing  the  gun 
with  a  gentle  energy,  by  its  barrel,  at  a  point  somewhere 
between  the  second  son  and  third,  daughter,  when  the 
extraordinary  weapon  gave  way  in  the  middle,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  the  catastrophe  against  which  she  had 
warned  the  unreflecting  Muscovite  took  jjlace :  there 
was  an  explosion,  —  not  loud,  but  effectual,  —  and  tlie 
whole  family,  father,  seven  children,  mother,  struck 
with  a  marvellous  accuracy,  fell  at  once  to  the 
16*  X 


370  ANTONY  BRADE. 

ground,  and  lay  motionless.  The  Princess,  to  the  joy 
of  the  audience,  shown  by  much  clapping  of  hands 
and  waving  of'handkerchiefs  (from  Mrs.  Osborn  first, 
and  then  from  all  the  ladies),  in  this  happy  administra- 
tion of  poetical  justice,  stood  unharmed,  and,  of  course, 
lovelier  than  before.  She  was  very  modest,  and  yet 
became  her  part  extremely  well. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  patent  for  that  powder,"  said 
one  of  the  city-gentlemen. 

"  Very  moderate  cost  of  ammunition,"  said  Mr. 
Parmenter. 

"  How  are  we  meant  to  account  for  it,"  said  a  saga- 
cious-sounding voice  from  the  corner,  which,  though 
doubtless  addressed  to  some  particular  neighbor,  was 
permitted  by  the  speaker,  in  a  friendly  way,  to  pervade 
the  several  rooms,  "  that  a  whole  family  —  a  whole  Rus- 
sian family,  or,  you  may  say,  any  other  family,  can  be 
put  out  of  existence  by  a  puff —  by  a  flash  "  — 

"  I  am  glad  that  firin's  over,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham, 
"  and  no  more  harm  done." 

The  Count  with  an  animated  action  of  the  foot 
showed  that  he  would  like  to  kick  the  prostrate  father 
of  a  family. 

"The  accident  which  has  just  occurred,  such  as  very 
often  happens  on  these  occasions,"  said  the  gentleman 
manager,  "  will  release  the  Czarevitch  and  give  him  com- 
mand of  his  time.  Pie  attends  the  funeral,  in  state,  accom- 
panied by  the  nation  at  large.  (" Neigliborly  people!" 
said  Mr  Merritt.)  "  The  Princess  and  the  Czarevitch," 
continued  Mr.  Greenwood,  "congratulate  one  another; 
and  presently,  with  your  permission,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, our  little  play  will  come  to  an  end." 

"  I  don't  see  as  we've  discovered  much, "  said  Mrs. 


MRS.   WADIIAM'S  PARTY.  371 

Wadhara,  without  much  reserve,  "  unless  you  can  make 
something  out  of  that  Count." 

"  Well,  keep  an  eye  to  the  Count,"  said  Mr.  Green- 
wood, privately. 

A  lovely  blush  suffused  the  cheek  of  the  represent- 
ative of  the  Princess  Alexandrovna,  as  also  those  of 
the  young  representative  of  imperial  majesty,  who  now 
descended  from  his  throne  and  took  her  by  the  hand. 
The  reigning  house  of  Romanoff  is  counted  handsome, 
but  we  doubt  whether  it  ever  appeared  to  better  ad- 
vantage in  any  two  of  its  members,  than  here.  One 
thing  distinguished  these  young  persons  from  many 
others :  they  were  very  delicate  and  distant  in  their 
intercourse  Avith  each  other.  "  Make  a  handsome 
couple,  —  that  boy  and  girl,  wouldn't  they?  eh!  Mrs. 
Osborn,"  said  a  city-gentleman. 

Mrs.  Osborn,  who  carried  on  a  lively  conversation 
with  three  or  four  gentlemen  at  once,  as  well  as  with 
Mr.  Parmenter,  remarked  pleasantly  that  "  she  liked 
Mr.  Greenwood's  disposal  of  his  characters  better  than 
Shakespeare's;  for  here  he  killed  off  only  just  those  that 
were  wanted  out  of  the  way."  Mr.  Greenwood  bowed, 
with  much  flourish.  Mrs.  Wadham  was  not  a  person 
to  lose  sight  of  a  great  purpose. 

"  What  did  you  make  out  of  that  Count  ?  "  she  asked, 
turning  promptly  to  the  intelligent  inquirer,  Mr.  Don. 
"  Did  he  understand  that  paper  ?  " 

"Well,  ma'am,  I  can  judge  only  by  the  eye,  you 
know,"  ho  answered,  "  as  I  unfortunately  cannot  talk 
Cossack.  He  seemed  to  recognize  it,  instantly,  and  to 
be  quite  struck  by  it.  The  impression  upon  my  mind 
was  a  strong  one ;  though,  as  I  say,  I  couldn't  hold 
conversation  with  him." 


372  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"Mother,"  said  Miss  Minette,  behind  her  fan,  hav- 
ing worked  her  way  to  the  neighborhood,  "  I'd  let  that 
language  go." 

"  I'll  do  what's  right ; "  said  the  mother.  —  "  Who's 
found  out  most  about  it,  so  far  ?  " 

Instead  of  being  ready  to  dismiss  the  pretty  pageant 
at  the  end,  the  public,  if  it  might  be  judged  by  its 
uproarious  and  long-kept-up  applause,  would  gladly 
have  had  the  whole  thing  over  again ;  but  the  good 
sense  of  the  elders  was  convinced,  and  yielded.  The  fold- 
ing doors  were  slowly  closing  on  the  imperial  pair ;  and 
Ned  Prouty,  who  had  a  soul  of  music  in  him,  and  a 
sure  taste  which  came  of  no  passing  fashion,  sounded, 
with  really  delicate  feeling  and  tenderness,  an  Irish  air, 
which  was  lost,  perhaps,  on  most  of  the  company,  but 
to  which  Mrs.  Osborn  at  once  gave  its  name,  and  a 
little  more,  —  "  Though  'twas  all  but  a  dream  at  the 
best,  An,d  still,  when  happiest,  soonest  q,'er." 

Mr.  Parraenter  assured  her  that  "  her  way  of  uttering 
the  words  (certainly  very  clear  and  gi;^ceful)  gave  them 
a  charm." 

Everybody  called  for  keeping  the  doors  open  till  it 
was  done,  and  for  the  Czarevitch  and  Czarovna  to  stay 
before  admiring  eyes ;  but  things  in  this  world  march 
with  inexorable  steadiness  toward  their  endings ;  and 
BO,  while  Prouty's  bright  coil  of  brass  was  making  all 
the  unseen  air  musical,  certain  young  fellows  in  the 
attire  of  pages  rushed  in  upon  the  stage  and  set  them- 
selves to  the  dragging  off  of  the  lifeless  bodies  of  the 
Muscovite  family  sacrificed  in  the  exercise  of  their  pre- 
rogative. The  jolting  shook  out  from  the  father  some 
words  which  had,  perhaps,  lodged  in  his  throat :  "  Heu, 
me  mis  — ."  To  which  of  the  njany  tongues  of  the  Great 


MBS.   WABHAM'S  PARTY.  373 

Empire  they  belong,  our  young  readers  must  find 
out. 

In  the  hasty  and  rather  rough  handling  which  these 
remains  received,  a  mitten  worked  off  from  the  hand  of 
the  youngest  born  and  fell  near  Mrs.  Osborn's  feet.  She 
picked  it  up,  smiling,  and  examined  it;  while  Mr. 
Greenwood,  whose  eyes  were  quick,  begged  her  to  keep 
it  as  a  little  token  of  the  afternoon's  amusement. 

Mr.  Parmenter  suggested  that  a  mitten  was  an  awk- 
ward present  to  receive ;  and  Mrs.  Osborn,  in  her  pret- 
tiest way,  told  him  that  "  she  must  ask  him  to  relieve 
her  of  it ;  "  and  persisted,  prettily,  in  making  over  to 
him  all  her  property  in  it. 

At  this  the  city-men  made  some  pleasant  remarks 
among  themselves;  and,  as  good  jokes  always  bear 
repetition,  one  of  them  good-humoredly  told  Mr. 
Parmenter  "they  were  just  saying  Mrs.  Osborn  had 
given  him  the  mitten." 

"  We'll  call  it  a  glove,  "  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
gallantly,  and  putting  it  in  his  bosom :  "  any  thing 
Irora  Mrs.  Osborn  is  worth  keeping." 

While  this  lively  scene  was  going  on,  the  hostess 
was  expressing  to  the  two  chief  actors  her  solid  ap- 
proval and  thanks  for  their  performance.  The  Czare- 
vitch was  in  good  spirits,  but  not  inclined  to  accept 
any  praise  "for  just  sitting  still.  Gaston  and  the  rest 
had  done  something."  The  Princess  Alexandrovna  was 
a  good  deal  excited  at  what  she  had  been  through. 

"I  hear  the  Count  understands  that  unknown  lan- 
guage we  talked  about  the  other  day, "  said  Mi's. 
Wadham  to  the  former.  The  Czarevitch  looked  em- 
barrassed. The  two  young  authors  and  owners  of  "  The 
Language"   glanced   at  each  other,  but  said  nothing. 


874  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Mrs.  Wadham  went  on :  "Mr.  Don  showed  it  to  liim.  — 
Don't  go,  Miss  Ryan :  we  ain't  going  to  talk  any  se- 
crets;" and  when  Kate,  like  a  simjjle  girl,  expressed 
her  anxiety  "to  change  those  things  for  her  own," 
Mrs.  Wadham  assured  her  strongly :  — 

"  They're  monstrously  becoming,  though,  let  me  tell 
you,  young  lady." 

As  Kate  Ryan  disappeared,  the  representative  of  the 
Czarevitch,  whom  we  may  now,  we  suppose,  call  Antony 
Brade,  hastened  to  tell  Mrs.  Wadham,  like  an  ingen- 
uous boy,  something  to  which  she  listened,  very  gravel y^ 
looking  him  steadily  in  the  face,  in  such  a  way  as  almost 
to  disconcert  him.  A  sort  of  working  seemed  to  be 
going  on  in  her,  as  palpably  as  that  of  swallowing  goes 
on :  the  whole  Wadhamic  system  seemed  to  be  engaged 
in  appropriating  the  communication. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  taking  a  breath,  when  he  had  done  ; 
then,  after  looking  at  him  another  moment,  to  see  if  he 
had  any  thing  more  to  say,  "  Of  course  that's  what  it 
was,  —  of  course  it  was.  It  was  fun.  —  Now  we'll  have 
something  else !     Yes." 

The  boys'  time  was  not  up,  nor  were  Mr.  Green- 
wood's resources  for  their  amusement  exhausted. 

"  It  was  our  intention,"  said  Mr.  Greenwood,  "  to 
give  you  a  list  of  all  the  passages  from  history  which 
we  have  omitted  to  represent  to-day,  and  wliich  are,  of 
coui-se,  reserved ;  but  the  list  was  rather  long"  (here  he 
showed  a  monstrous  roll.  At  which  some  shrewd 
observer  said,  "  Have  you  got  'em  all  there  ?  No,  you 
don't,  then ! ")  Mr.  Greenwood  went  on :  "  The  read- 
ing will  therefore  be  dispensed  with." 

The  party  was  chiefly  for  the  boys :  the  Muse  of  His- 
tory must  therefore  condescend  with  a  good  grace  in 


MES.    WADHAM'S  PARTY.  375 

s])eaking  of  the  entevtaiuraent.  Charades  were  acted, 
in  which  "  buff-  fell  -  oh ! "  and  "  hip  -  hop  -  pop  -  what  - 
a-  muss,"  and  "  blunder-buss,"  and  "  mag-pie  "  and  "  file- 
and-throw-pie,"  and  otliers,  were  spelled  out,  witli  great 
energy ;  but  they  have  no  special  bearing  upon  our 
story,  and  we  shall  therefore  ask  the  reader  to  fancy 
and  act  them  over  for  liimself. 

When  the  boys  went  away,  Brade,  at  Mrs.  Wadhara's 
solicitation,  had  special  leave  (considering  his  ^^art,  con- 
sidering, also,  his  yet  undiscovered  relationship  to  the 
Count)  to  stay  an  hour  longer.  Mr.  Parmenter,  who  was 
not  now  confining  himself  to  any  one  person,  but  taking 
a  general  interest  in  things,  congratulated  Brade,  with 
dignity, upon  this  privilege,  as  well  as  upon  his  acting; 
of  which  the  boy,  like  an  intelhgent  and  ingenuous  fel- 
low, as  before,  said  that  "  being  dressed  up  and  keeping 
still  wasn't  any  thing."  He  looked  pleased,  of  course,  at 
having  succeeded. 

"  It's  a  great  part  of  king-craft,  though  ; "  said  Mr. 
Hanson,  going  into  high  thought. 

"  The  effect  of  blood,  I  suppose  ; "  said  Mr.  Parmen- 
ter, partly  but  not  wholly  aside,  and  with  a  bow. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WHAT  THE  COUNT  IS   TO  BRADE. 

A  LITTLE  ceremony  was  to  be  used  in  going  to  the 
dining-room.  It  was  understood  that  the  late  Czare- 
vitch should  lead  in  the  late  Princess  Alexandrovna ; 
the  Cossack  Count,  of  course,  conducting  the  lady  of  the 
house. 

Mr.  Don,  before  this  took  place,  was  apprised  of  a 
discovery  which  Mrs.  Wadham  had  made,  nearly  affect- 
ing his  document :  "  I  suppose  you  know  that  strange 
language  everybody  was  puzzled  about  was  all  made 
up.  Oh,  yes !  entirely,  —  altogether.  A  pretty  good 
language  to  be  made  up  for  fun  ?  " 

"  You  surprise  me,  ma'am ! "  Mr.  Don  said,  a  good 
deal  astonished.  "  Well,  I  think  with  you  it  was  wor- 
thy of  a  better  fete." 

He  at  once  explained  the  state  of  things  to  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Merritt. 

"  Then  my  Anglo-Saxon  goes  to  the  bottom ; "  Mr. 
Merritt  said  good-naturedly,  as  if  a  great  part  of  the 
world  was  still  standing. 

The  Count  seemed  not  quite  to  understand  the  duty 
expected  of  him. 

Mr.  Greenwood  was  for  the  moment  not  to  be  found. 
Thereupon,  the  lady,  in  a  very  purpose-like  way,  walked 
up  to  the  eminent  foreigner,  and  showed,  in  the  same 


WHAT  THE  COUNT  IS   TO  BRADE.         377 

way  in  which  Robinson  Crusoe  expressed  himself  to 
the  savages,  that  she  would  take  his  arm,  and  they 
would  go  yonder,  and,  as  she  explained  by  forcible 
action  of  the  jaws,  would  there  put  their  mouths  to  the 
best  use  that  most  mouths  are  capable  of.  The  Count, 
with  his  facility  at  language,  caught  the  meaning 
readily;  and  having  gone  through  with  the  same 
symbolic  representation  in  his  turn,  and  occasioned 
another  breach  of  good  manners  on  the  part  of  the 
impulsive  young  people  and  others,  he  made  a  pro- 
found bow  and  gave  the  hostess  his  arm. 

It  was  a  disappointment  to  the  company  that  Brade 
and  Kate  Ryan  had  abandoned  their  splendid  dresses 
(for  the  boy  had  been  as  much  in  a  hurry  to  get  back 
to  his  own,  as  the  girl  had  shown  herself) ;  but  it  was 
still  generally  agreed  that  they  were  an  uncommonly 
good-looking  couple,  and  well  matched. 

They  were  not  at  all  upon  the  easy  and  familiar 
footing  with  each  other  that  we  once  saw,  but  rather 
on  that  which  Kate  made  a  condition  of  their  corre- 
spondence in  "  The  Language."  He  addressed  her  as 
" Miss  Ryan  ;  "  and  she  (we  believe)  called  him  "Mr. 
Brade."  They  talked  together  with  plenty  of  reserve 
and  courteous  distance. 

The  mysterious  link  of  relationship  between  the 
Count  and  Brade  had  not  been  broken  when  the  un- 
known tongue  was  stripped  of  all  mystery ;  and  it  was 
arranged  that  they  should  come  next  each  other,  in  the 
dining-room.  The  clerical  party  were  not  far  off;  and 
Dr.  Farwell,  very  happily,  as  usual,  hit  the  feeling  of 
the  guests  by  saying,  in  his  pleasant  way,  — 

"Now  here's  a  place  where  action  is  better  than 
speech." 


37 H  ANTONY  BRADE. 


The  Count's  formal  salutation  of  his  young  kinsman 
(if  Brade  was  his  kinsman),  and  the  look  with  which  it 
was  accompanied,  had  a  strangely  exhilarating  effect 
upon  the  boy  and  those  near,  although  Brade,  as  we 
know,  was  no  giggling  fellow,  to  be  carried  off  his 
gravity  by  every  trifle, 

Mr.  Merritt  saw  the  state  of  the  case,  and  consider- 
ately came  in :  — 

"The  foreign  Count  will  be  too  much  for  that  young- 
ster," he  said  :  "  some  of  us  older  people  better  take 
him." 

Meantime  the  foreigner,  unwilling  to  remain  a  stran- 
ger, and  wishing  to  tighten  the  cords  of  human  brother- 
hood, had  adopted  the  readiest  way  he  knew  to  that 
end ;  and  forgetting  even,  for  an  instant,  the  immediate 
claims  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  whom  he  had  had  the 
l)onor  to  bring  in,  presented  Brade  ceremoniously 
with  a  card.  But  this  was  only  for  a  moment :  then 
l)e  turned  diligently  to  the  discharge  of  his  duties, 
and  showed  himself  more  practised  in  the  arts  of  civili- 
zation and  usages  of  the  table  than  many  of  his  titled 
brethren  have  a2:)peared  in  this  country. 

It  has  been  already  said  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Merritt 
professed  to  have  kept  by  him  a  good  deal  of  his  school- 
boy associations ;  in  like  manner  he  had  not  forgotten 
his  school-boy  manners.  He  now  beckoned  for  a  sight 
of  this  paper,  much  as  any  of  Brade's  comrades  might 
have  done.  Brade,  smiling,  handed  him  the  card;  and 
Mr.  Merritt,  turning  his  back  and  drawing  some  of  his 
neighbors  to  do  the  same,  evidently  enjoyed  himself 
heartily.  The  Count,  getting  no  answer,  devoted  him- 
self the  more  strenuously  to  the  comfort  and  refresh- 
ment of  the  liostess. 


WHAT  THE   COUNT  IS   TO  BRADE.         379 

"  This  is  about  as  good  as  my  unknown  tongue  — 
Anglo-Saxon  and  all,"  Mr.  Merritt  said. 

" '  Kollidg  tis  kontra  gif  digri  tu  mi  on  languidg  ?  ' " 

"'Give  degree,'  sir,  is  what  he  means  evidently;" 
said  Mr.  Don,  good-naturedly  giving  his  help. 

"  That's  plain  enough,"  said  Mr.  Merritt ;  "  but  what 
does  the  rest  of  it  mean  ?  Will  a  college  in  this  coun- 
try give  a  degree  in  his  language,  or  to  a  man  of  his 
language  ?  I  should  say  he  ought  to  be  encouraged, 
somehow,  to  go  on.  —  I  thought,"  he  said,  showing  the 
card  to  Mr.  Greenwood,  who  happened  to  pass,  "  you 
told  us  he  didn't  know  a  word  of  English." 

"  I  said  '  there  wasn't  an  English  word  in  him  : '  well, 
I  don't  see  any  thing  there  against  it." 

Dr.  Farwell's  wisdom  was  close  at  hand,  and  came  to 
the  rescue :  — 

"But  these,"  said  he,  "are  the  phonetic  signs:  he 
sings  by  the  phonetic  signs ;  he  spells  by  the  phonetic 
signs.  .'  K-o-l-l-i-d-g '  isn't  according  to  our  spelling- 
books  ;  but  isn't  it  according  to  another  principle,  —  per- 
haps a  better  principle  ?  The  American  child  says  '  B'e'd,' 
when  he's  hungry  ;  and  '  Bed,'  when  he's  sleepy.  Now 
may  not  that  sound — I  put  the  question  as  a  question 
in  science  —  may  not  that  sound  represent  to  that 
child  —  be  associated  in  tliat  cliild's  mind  —  with  tlie 
g:'neral  idea  of  comfort  ?  —  comfort  ?  " 

Wliile  this  thoughtful  speculation  was  going  on, 
emphasized,  at  emphatic  points,  with  the  peacefully- 
shut  fist,  across  the  cliest,  the  great  order  of  things  had 
also  been  going  on.  Ices,  salads,  jellies,  oysters,  con- 
fectioneries, in  many  a  temi>ting  form,  Avere  carried 
about;  and  trustees  and  clergymen  could  not  keep 
their   backs   set   against   them.      It   hajjpened   ill   for 


880  ANTONY  BRADE. 

science  that  this  strong  diversion  came  just  a^  the 
Reverend  Doctor  liad  been  called  upon  by  Mr.  Pettie 
or  some  one,  to  explain  "  how  the  Cossack  Count 
could  spell  '  college,'  or  '  give,'  or  any  of  his  other 
words,  in  'phonetic  signs,'  if  he  hadn't  first  got  the 
Mords  that  he  wanted  to  spell."  The  answer  was  lost 
in  the  general  occupation  that  followed. 

The  Count  by  no  means  confined  himself  in  his 
attentions  to  his  young  relative,  nor  to  the  lady  of  the 
house ;  but  in  active  dumb  show,  with  a  noble  flourish 
of  manner,  he  helped  half  the  young  ladies  near  him, 
before  their  attendant  gentlemen  knew  where  they 
were,  —  to  the  amused  fi-ight  of  the  young  ladies 
themselves. 

Ml-.  Merritt's  wit  was  alive,  and  found  vent,  confi- 
dentially, but  in  a  pretty  loud  confidence,  to  his  friend 
the  Doctor  (and  a  few  others) :  — 

"  Though  the  Count  don't  understand  English,  I 
think,  looking  at  his  performances,  we  should  hold  him 
a-count-able,  shouldn't  we?" 

"I  was  expecting  to  make  two  or  three  very  good 
Jokes  out  of  that  word,"  said  Dr.  Farwell ;  "  and  now 
here's  Merritt  spoiled  one  of  'em,  right  off"." 

The  Count,  who,  of  course,  heard  but  a  confused 
jargon  of  speech  all  about  him,  unless  when,  like  a 
warble  from  his  native  woods,  or  a  strain  from  his  own 
ancestral  halls,  or,  in  short,  like  just  what  it  was,  a  word 
or  two  came  to  him  from  Mr.  Greenwood,  did  not  des- 
pair of  communicating,  in  his  own  way,  with  the  intelli- 
gent life  around  him.  Again  he  presented  a  card  to 
Brade,  and  accompanied  it  with  a  look  of  inquiry,  and 
an  inquiring  attitude  of  the  different  members  of  the 
body,  eminently  foreign.  The  card  this  time  bore  upon 
its  face  the  words:  — 


WHAT  THE   COUNT  IS    TO  BRADE.         381 

"  Konow  Russik  ?  " 

The  Trustees  happened  at  the  moment  to  be  en- 
gaged in  discussing  the  arrangement  for  "  Benefactors' 
Day," —  the  '<  Triumphal  Arch,"  or  the  "Arch  of  Wel- 
come," or  whatever  it  should  be  called;  the  Latin 
speech,  to  be  in  two  parts,  for  Gaston  and  Brade,  but 
very  short,  so  as  to  be  fitted  for  out-door  delivery,  if 
the  weather  should  not  be  too  cold  or  stormy.  Dr. 
Farwell  was  just  settling  things  in  their  places,  as  they 
ought  to  be  settled,  — "  that  seems  conclusive  as  to 
that  thing,  at  that  point"  —  when  Mi*.  Meriitt  nudged 
his  elbow,  and  it  was  astonishing,  considering  the  speed 
and  force  with  which  he  moved,  how  soon  he  checked 
himself  to  see  what  Mr.  Merritt  wished  him  to  see. 

Brade,  not  thinking  himself  seen,  was  answering 
Count  Blakisoff 's  card  as  well  as  he  could ;  showing, 
in  his  eyes,  a  feeling  of  the  drollness  of  his  own  appear- 
ance, and  that  of  the  Count,  who  was  gesticulating  in 
sympathy,  and  with  that  gravity  which  belongs  to  well- 
bred  foreigners.  Catching  sight  of  the  clerical  party, 
Brade  politely  presented  them  with  the  card,  a^ld,  leav- 
ing them  busy,  took  the  opportunity  to  make  his 
modest  leave-taking  and  get  away.  A  more  conspic- 
uous part  was  played  by  the  Count,  who  liastily  fol- 
lowed him,  after  a  very  low  bow  to  the  hostess,  and 
another  to  the  comj^any ;  Mr.  Greenwood  explaining 
that   "  he  was  drawn  by  strong  ties." 

The  air  was  sharp  and  biting,  as  Brade,  followed 
closely  by  the  noble  foreigner,  left  behind  the  house 
full  of  pleasant  warmth,  and  sounds  of  mirth. 

"  Brade ! "  said  the  Count,  in  a  strange  accent ;  and, 
as  Antony  turner],  he  could  see  that  some  change  had 
taken  place  in  the  stranger. 


382  ANTONY  BEADS. 


"  Ha  !  "  said  the  Count,  in  the  cold  air,  but  speaking 
as  good  English  as  Russian,  and  putting  his  hand  to 
his  face. 

Antony  waited  to  join  him ;  and,  as  the  Count  with- 
drew his  hand,  a  great  part  of  the  hair  of  his  face  came 
with  it. 

"'Kollidg  gif  digri  tu  mi  on  languidge,'"  said  the 
Count,  making  out  pretty  well  to  repeat  the  words  on 
his  first  card. 

Brade  laughed.  "  Ulterior  College  might  do  it,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said. 

"  Didn't  you  find  me  out  before  ?  "  asked  Blake,  — 
for  Blake  it  was,  rid  of  his  hair,  but  still  wearing  his 
frogged  coat.  "Really? — The  trouble  about  getting 
an  '  honorary '  from  Ulterior,"  said  he,  running  on,  in 
his  old  way,  "  is,  if  you  haven't  been  there  four  years, 
you've  got  to  prove  you  wa'n't  bright  enough  to  get 
through  College ;  or  you  want  to  preach  or  teach,  and 
people  think  you  don't  know  enough." 

Some  boys,  who  were  out  with  their  sleds,  espied 
the  two,  and,  after  gazing  at  them,  broke  forth  in  shouts : 
«  Hooraw  for  Count  Blakisoflf !  "  —  «  Hooray ! "  "  Hoo- 
raw  for  Imperial  Highness !  "  and  escorted  them  home 
in  triumph. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BENEFACTORS'    DAY. 

Me.  Paementer's  "  evening,"  after  Mrs.  Wadham, 
was  handsome  and  costly.  Except  the  boys,  he  had 
most  of  her  guests,  and  some  others.  The  weather  had 
grown  still  colder ;  but  there  was  to  be  a  full  moon  ; 
and,  as  snow  already  covered  the  ground,  the  night 
would  be  a  fine  one,  and  everybody  was  in  good  spirits. 
Mrs.  Osborn  was  not  there,  and  there  were  those  who 
said  that  "  that  giving  of  the  mitten  was  a  genuine 
thing;"  others  "didn't  believe  it:  it  was  only  fun 
before  people."     But  she  was  not  there. 

Mrs.  Wadham  was  at  Mr.  Parmenter's,  and  gave  a 
good  deal  of  tone  to  things,  in  whatever  part  of  the 
liouse  she  was.  The  rumor  of  Blake's  transformation, 
and  chauging-back, had  found  its  way  up;  and  the  city- 
gentlemen,  having  got  an  inkling  of  the  supposed  rela- 
tionship to  Brade,  laughed  heartily,  and  said  a  good 
many  funny  things  about  "  the  other  boy's  Cossack 
uncle,"  and  called  him  "  a  first-rate  actor." 

Mrs.  Wadham,  when  the  intelligence  first  reached 
her,  treated  it  as  a  deliberative  body  treats  a  report  from 
a  committee,  and  "  accepted "  it,  as  it  were,  for  her 
own  consideration,  by  saying  "  Yes."  Slie  changed 
color  a  little,  to  be  sure ;  and  then  was  silent  over  it, 
until  jhe  had  disposed  of  it  within  herself,  and,  as  it 


S84  ANTONY  BRADE. 

were,  "  adopted  "  it.  This  all  took  place  at  Mr.  Par- 
menter's;  and  Mr.  Greenwood  had  been  so  occupied 
with  different  gentlemen  as  not  to  have  been  able  to 
exchange  any  conversation  with  her,  further  than  a 
hurried  exclamation,  in  passing:  "How  that  chap  did 
impose  upon  us ! " 

Mrs.  Wadham  made  her  answer,  in  the  hearing  of 
those  who  were  near :  "  I'm  sure  I  gave  'em  chance 
enough  to  find  him  out.  I  introduced  Dr.  Farwell  to 
him ;  and  I  introduced  Mr.  Parmenter,  and  Mr.  Merritt, 
and  Mr.  Don.     They  had  chance  enough." 

The  buzzing  of  animated  conversation;  the  admiring 
exclamations ;  the  compliments  paid  to  the  host ;  the 
moral  reflections  and  sagacious  observations  made 
about  him  and  his  fortunes;  the  arrangement  of 
lights,  so  as  to  "  bring  out  "  the  pictures  ;  the  glances 
of  eyes  and  of  speech,  —  all  this  would  make  a  very 
good  subject  for  the  pen  ;  bnt  we  pass  it,  and  even  the 
talk  about  Benefactors'  Day,  and  the  boys'  coming  match 
on  the  ice,  as  not  necessary  to  our  story.  One  happen- 
ing we  describe,  as  connected  with  Brade  and  with 
what  is  coming. 

It  had  become  known  throughout  the  company  that 
Mr.  Parmenter  was  looking  for  a  very  distinguished 
guest ;  the  wiser  ones  said,  "  for  an  eminent  musician." 
An  hour  or  two  late,  there  was  a  stir  outside,  and  a 
busy-looking  movement  on  the  part  of  the  host,  and 
little  eagernesses  among  the  guests ;  and  a  man  with  a 
military  cloak  thrown  over  his  cap,  and  high  boots, 
with  fur  tops,  meeting  the  cloak,  was  brought  through 
the  rooms,  with  much  ceremony  on  Mr.  Parmenter's 
part  and  very  little  on  his  own,  and  taken  into  a  room 
beyond,  where,  as  some  of  the  gentlemen  remarked, 


BENEFACTORS'  DAY.  385 

"  that  foreign  fellow  was  getting  some  grub,  after  his 
sleigh-ride."  "  He  ain't  another  Cossack  Count,  is 
he  ?^" 

After  a  while  he  came  out,  having  his  cloak  now 
hanging  from  his  shoulders  (his  boots  still  on),  and 
was  wiping  his  chops  and  beard  with  his  fingers.  Mr. 
Parmenter  made  it  to  be  understood  that  this  was 
"The  Maestro!"  (with  much  accent:  it  was  rejjeated 
as  "the  Maelstrom!"  by  one  of  the  ready  wits) 
"  VoLKov,  the  great  composer!"  In  that  character, 
he  was  looked  at  and  commented  upon,  as  he  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  piano,  uttering  occasional  very 
"basso"  words  and  laughs.  "Queer-looking  '  com- 
panij''-Y].g"  some  said.  "Becoming,  though,"  others 
thought.  "  Genius  does  so,"  was  a  third  opinion.  A 
crashing  sound,  from  the  heavy  cords  of  the  piano 
behind  him,  brought  a  sudden  stillness,  during  which 
Mr.  Volkov,  without  heeding  either  sound  or  stillness, 
kept  on,  at  intervals,  uttering  his  deep-toned  speech 
and  laughter.  A  tinkling,  as  of  foiry  sheep-bells,  but 
rhytlynical  and  melodious,  came  from  the  piano  (so  Mr. 
Manson  enthusiastically  described  it)  :  all  ears  were 
strained  to  catch  it.  A  sound,  as  of  a  fairy  people 
dancing  to  the  pipe  and  tabor,  followed ;  then  a  march ; 
then  a  dirge ;  and  while  all  ears,  except  of  the  artist, 
were  strained  to  hear,  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
piano,  asking  questions  about  the  snow  in  different 
winters,  —  how  deep,  how  early,  how  late. 

"  Why  don't  Parmenter  show  him  his  fiddle?"  some 
asked ;  and  in  a  moment  were  answered.  There  was  a 
sudden  blaze  of  light  thrown  on  the  Stradivarius.  The 
host  had  been  standing  near  the  artist,  and  listening, 
with  bowed  head     He  now  ceremoniously  spoke :  — 

17  Y 


386  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  I'm  very  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  sir,  and  to  deprive 
us  of  the  treat  we're  enjoying;  but  many  of  my  friends 
are  a  little  impatient  to  have  you  see  a  very  precious 
relic  in  my  possession,  —  a  genuine  Sti'adivarms  !  " 

"  Stradivarius  ! "  said  the  Maestro,  leaving  the  piano, 
and  following.  (Of  course  the  golden  thread  of  music 
broke,  when  he  walked  away.) 

The  Stradivarius  of  Mr.  T.  Parmenter,  as  Mr.  T. 
"  Parmenter's  fiddle,"  was  as  well  known,  almost,  as 
the  regalia  in  Edinburgh  Castle,  or  elsewhere,  and  the 
company  flocked  over  to  its  stand. 

Here,  having  allowed  a  little  time  for  things  to  settle, 
Mr.  Parmenter  drew  from  his  pocket  a  package  of  worn 
and  yellow  papei's ;  and,  holding  them  in  his  hand, 
smiling,  made  a  little  speech :  — 

"You  know,  better  than  I  can  tell  you,  sir,  that  the 
violin  of  Cremona  is  very  famous  and  very  rare.  I 
think  there  were  three  houses  most  eminent  for  making 
them.  They  are  so  scarce  as  to  command  a  fabulous 
price.  —  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  lie  added, 
bashfully,  "to  confess  what  I  paid  for  this;  but  the 
evidence  "  — 

The  great  artist  looked  glum  at  the  sight  of  the 
papers,  as  if  he  feared  the  having  to  read  them  all 
through,  and  proceeded  to  his  own  line  of  evidence. 
Taking  the  "  Cremona  "  from  its  cushion,  he  tightened 
up  the  old  strings,  whose  iibre  had  been  toughened  by 
the  goat's  milk  and  mutton  of  Padan  fields,  and  first 
attuned  to  music  in  the  open  night-air  of  Cathedral- 
leads  or  humbler  roofs,  or  in  the  little-frequented  and 
much-resounding  halls  of  the  University.  The  Maestro 
ran  his  fingers  up  and  down  and  across  the  tightened 
strings,  faster  than  common   ears  could  follow ;   then 


BENEFACTORS'  DAY.  387 

rapped  hard  on  the  back  of  the  instrument  with  his 
knuckles;  then  squeezed  with  his  two  thumbs  the 
front,  as  if  he  would  break  it  iu,  like  the  breast  of  a 
chicken  ;  then,  with  a  nail  of  one  of  his  many-ringed 
fingers,  scraped  at  the  dark  crust ;  and  then  loosened 
the  strings,  and  laid  down  the  Stradivarius,  saying  that 
"he  was  yoost  so  goot  als  how  he  ever  was.  He  never 
was  goot  for  nodsing,  't  all.  —  They  had  sheeted  the  goot 
friend,  Parmentei'." 

At  this  candid  announcement,  the  sudden  expressions 
in  the  many  faces  gathered  about  were  worth  a  j^ainter's 
study.  Many  glances  were  interchanged  ;  some  mouths 
were  pursed  up,  and  eyelids  rounded  ;  some  tongues 
were  thrust  into  cheeks ;  a  back  was  significantly 
scratched ;  shoulders  were  shrugged  to  the  ears.  One 
face,  staring  with  all  its  eyes,  hearing  with  all  its  ears, 
was  particularly  anrusing:  it  w\as  that  of  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham's  man,  Eldridge,  who,  somehow,  happened  to  be 
among  the  foremost  by-standers.  The  lady  herself  had 
not  observed  him.  She  had  received  the  artist's  words 
with  silent,  open  mouth,  and  had  closed  upon  it  with  a 
deep  "  Urn ! " 

Mr.  Parraenter  took  the  event  gallantly  :  — 
"  I  suppose,  sir,"  he  said,  smiling,  though  very  red, 
"  you  would  hardly  care  to  read  these  vouchers,"  and 
he  put  them  back  in  his  pocket,  "  We  must  accept  the 
verdict  —  unless  "  (looking  round  at  his  guests)  "we 
can  get  it  amended."  Then,  spying  Eldridge,  now 
engaged  in  searching  the  faces  of  the  on-lookers,  he 
said:  "You  were  looking  for  Mrs.  Wadham,  I  sup- 
pose;" and  having  recalled  that  intelligent  observer 
to  himself  and  his  business,  he  snid,  pointing  to  the 
Cremona,  "  This  needs  a  taste  for  antiquity  to  appreciate 


388  ANTONY  BRADE. 


it.  Perhaps,  sir,  you'll  favor  us  with  a  little  music  from 
an  insti'ument  of  to-day,  which,  you  have  shown  us,  can 
'  discourse '  very  sweet  sounds." 

So,  with  this  pretty  speech,  Mr.  Parmenter  turned 
off  his  disappointment.  Mr.  Don  said,  "I  think  he 
didn't  make  allowance  for  the  age  of  the  fiddle,  sir.  I 
think  you  told  me  it  was  three  hundred  years  old." 
Mrs.  Wadham  asked,  "You've  kept  your  vouchers,  I 
suppose  ?  "  much  as  she  might  ask  if  his  securities  had 
escaped  a  fire. 

Mr.  Parmenter  devoted  himself  to  his  guests.  The 
Maestro,  after  bestowing  an  hour  or  more  on  this  social 
gathering,  out  of  his  way,  was  whirled  off  again  to  a 
railroad  station,  and  in  due  time  the  guests  were  scat- 
tered. 

The  public,  in  its  informal  assemblings  at  the  store 
and  the  post-office,  did  its  duty  by  all  parties,  —  the 
host,  the  great  musician,  and  the  fiddle.  We  have  seen 
that  one  of  its  channels  of  information  lay  through 
Eldridge ;  and  Eldridge  had  had  special  advantages. 
Several  intelligent  persons  had  also  questioned  Mr. 
Parmenter,  before  twenty-four  hours  had  gone  by, 
whether  "  it  was  true  that  that  musical  man  had 
knocked  the  old  fiddle  all  to  smash?"  and  whether 
"  that  foreigner  hadn't  ben  ruther  aggravatin'  ? "  and 
Mr.  Parmenter  had  taken  every  thing  very  quietly,  say- 
ing that  "  the  fiddle  was  safe  in  its  place,  where  he 
should  be  glad  to  have  any  of  his  neighbors  come  and 
Bee  it ;  "  and  that  "  Volkov  was  considered  the  greatest 
living  authority  in  music." 

Now,  the  public,  taking  the  whole  thing  in  hand, 
sifting  and  weighing,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "  Par- 
menter was  awful  cut  up,  when  the  Dutchman  spoke 


BENEFACTORS'  DAY.  389 

up,  as  pert  as  could  be,  and  said  '  his  fiddle  wa'n't  wuth 
a  snap,  then,  nor  wouldn't  be,  if  lie  kep'  it  a  thousand 
year.' " 

All  now  was  looking  forward  to  the  new  "  Benefac- 
tors' Day,"  and  working  for  it :  the  great  doings  of  the 
forenoon  and  the  great  match  on  the  ice.  "  An  arch  was 
to  be  made  by  Mr.  Chambers,  the  carpenter,  and  dec- 
orated by  the  boys,  and  then  set  up  on  one  of  the 
school-roads  or  paths,  and  somewhere  where  it  would 
be  sheltered,  because  it  would  have  to  be  all  covered 
up  till  it  was  unveiled,  and,  if  the  winds  should  get  at 
it,  they'd  make  short  work  of  it."  So  ran  the  talk 
of  the  School ;  and  accordingly  Mr.  Chambers  built  it 
on  the  large  barn-floor,  and  Lawrence  and  Lamson  and 
Mason  were  busy  for  all  the  spare  time  of  three  days, 
in  illuminating  the  front  with  the  words  ",Sai7,  Bene- 
factors !  "  in  beautiful  Church-text. 

A  steady,  soaking  rain  set  in  during  this  time,  threat- 
ening a  thaw ;  but  it  cleared  off,  and  cold  came  steadily 
on  again. 

The  arch,  as  decorated,  and  covered  three  or  four  feet 
down  by  canvas  which  was  to  be  drawn  away  at  "  The 
Unveiling,"  was  set  where  no  wind  could  reach  it,  and 
neatly  held  up  at  the  back  by  shores  let  into  the  ice- 
covered  ground.  The  monitors  undertook  the  charge 
of  it,  in  high  hope ;  for  all  was  ready,  and  the  even- 
ing promised  a  fair  morrow.  It  was  dark  when  the 
last  cluster  of  boys  broke  up ;  and  Brade,  in  a  sudden 
freak  of  liveliness  and  nimbleness,  as  soon  as  the  rest 
were  gone,  set  out  to  climb  the  arch,  and  climbed  it 
safely,  in  spite  of  Peters's  earnest  remonstrances,  urging 
what  a  risk  and  how  needless  a  risk  he  was  taking, 
"  with  that  canvas  on  it,"  and  that  he  himself  "  could 
not  bear  to  see  it." 


390  ANTONY  BRADE. 


As  Brade  sat  astride  at  the  top,  and  waved  his  hat  in 
the  faint  light  of  the  rising  moon,  with  one  hurrah,  Mr. 
Parmenter,  unseen,  wished  him  "  Good  evening !  "  and 
complimented  him  as  " an  aspiring  genius;"  advising, 
however,  his  speedy  coming  down,  for  his  own  sake 
and  that  of  the  aroh.  So  Brade  made  his  harmless 
boy-hrag  that  he  was  not  afraid,  and  came  down ; 
receiving  the  benefactor's  very  courteous  expression  of 
"hope  to  see  him  to-morrow  in  an  honorable  position." 
Then,  with  Peters,  who  "  was  glad  to  see  him  on  dry 
land  again,"  at  which  blunder  both  laughed,  he  went 
into  the  house. 

The  next  dawn  rose  over  the  earth  as  if  all  things 
above  and  around  were  ready  to  make  a  fine  winter's 
day  for  the  new  holiday. 

The  younger  boys  were  astir  early,  their  blood  all 
bustling ;  and  the  elders  were  full  also  of  the  great 
match  and  the  doings  at  the  arch  beforehand,  and 
talked  them  over.  Gaston  and  Brade,  as  we  know, 
were  to  come  out  in  Latin  ;  and  each  had  contrived  a 
little  joke  to  give  point  to  his  short  speech.  One  was 
going  to  wish  that  "it  might  hail  benefactors,"  and  the 
other  that  "  the  benefactors  might  be  hale  and  hearty." 
This  lattei-,  being  hard  to  make  telling  in  Latin,  was  to 
be  clapped  till  hands  were  sore.  Some  of  the  Trustees 
were  to  speak,  —  not  too  many,  the  boys  hoped. 

At  ten  of  the  clock  in  the  forenoon,  Rector  Warren 
was  at  the  arch,  with  his  boys  :  Gaston  and  Brade  wear- 
ing badges  of  red  and  blue  ribbon.  At  ten  of  the 
clock,  a  handsome  open  sleigh,  bearing  Mr.  Parmenter, 
handsomely  fun-ed,  and  Dr.  Farwell  in  a  skull-cap  and 
muffled  thoroughly,  and  Mr.  Merritt,  and  Mr.  Don, 
drew  up.  Sleighs  full  of  neighbors,  and  a  small  crowd 
of  neighbors  on  foot,  had  gathered,  and  were  gathering. 


BENEFACTORS'  DAY.  391 

Mr,  Parmenter  sat  combining  a  look  of  dignified  in- 
difference with  a  look  of  modest  consciousness. 

Dr.  Farwell  rose,  and,  on  a  hint  from  Mr.  Merritt, 
stood  upon  the  seat. 

"  I  am  called  upon,"  he  said,  his  eyes  twinkling  from 
beside  his  nose,  and  from  among  his  mufflings,  "  to 
make  a  speech.  It  seems  to  be  thought  that  I  know 
how  to  do  that  thing  which  is  called  a  speechP  (His 
hands  being  in  his  coat-pockets,  the  gestures  were 
chiefly  made  with  the  shoulders,  and  by  a  flapping  of 
the  arms  against  the  sides;  and  in  this  way,  consid- 
ering lus  greatness  of  manner,  he  was  stately  and 
emi)hatic.)  "  Have  any  of  the  boys  who  hear  me  thought 
what  an  occasion  is?  An  'occasion'  is  a  time.  If  I 
act  at  the  proper  time,  I  act  on  the  proper  occasion. 
Now  an  occasion  may  be  a  great  occasion ;  and  men 
are  said  to  rise  "  (here  the  gesture  was  easy,  —  a  going 
up  upon  the  toes,  and  down  again)  "  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  occasion.  —  This  is  a  great  occasion !  — 
Perhaps  benefactors  need  institutions :  institutions  also 
need  benefactors.  This  occasion  brings  the  two  to- 
gether: the  institution  welcomes  its  benefactors  with 
a  simple  and  significant  display"  (Mr.  Parmenter  was 
moved,  and  lifted  his  hat).  "The  taste  and  judgment 
of  teachers,  the  zeal  and  skill  of  pupils." — Here, 
bowvig  his  head,  he  gave  the  signal  for  withdrawing 
the  canvas.  Russell  and  Lamson  ran  it  ofi";  and  the 
arcli,  with  its  illuminated  inscription,  was  left  bare. 
Tlie  orator  started  :  everybody  was  astonished  :  there 
was  the  inumination  :  but  tliere  was,  moreover,  dang- 
ling below  by  a  bit  of  tarred  cord, the  wreck  of  a  junk 
bottle,  to  wiiich  was  fastened  a  great  sprawling  inscrip- 
tion, "aiicli.o  trtck;"  and,  furtliermore,  there  was  a 


392  ANTONY  BRADE. 

Btrange-looking  black  fiddle,  with  "  Stkadle  various  " 
upon  it,  hanging  by  another  bit  of  tarred  string. 

The  orator  paused ;  but  the  intelligent  neighbors 
began  to  question  :  "  What  d'ye  s'pose  that's  for  ?  "  "  'S 
he  goin'  to  read  his  dokyments  'n  public  ?  "  —  "  You'd 
better  get  a  little  nearer,  Eldridge,"  said  a  resolute 
female  voice  in  one  of  the  sleighs. 

The  reader  knows  that  boys  are  boys,  but  will 
believe  that  the  St.  Bart's  boys  kept  pretty  steady. 

Meantime,  the  combined  expression  of  Mr.  Parmen- 
ter's  face  had  become  simplified  and  more  intense.  He 
was  standing,  now,  in  his  sleigh,  handsomely  furred, 
as  he  was,  and  spoke  with  a  hastiness  unwonted  in 
him :  — 

"Any  thing  like  good  discipline  in  the  School,"  he 
said,  "  would  have  prevented  "  — 

The  orator  spoke  again :  — 

"It  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  boys  of  Saint  Bar- 
tholomew's School"  — 

Mr.  Don  also  opened  his  mouth  :  — 

"  I  can  hardly  conceive  "  — 

"  I  saw  one  young  gentleman  on  top  of  the  arch 
after  it  was  set  up  last  night,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter, 
Btill  not  using  his  self-control. 

"  Of  course  you  don't  think  J"  did  that,"  said  Brade,  as 
hastily. 

Peters  stood  forth  like  a  born  champion :  — 

"  Brade  only  climbed  up  for  fun,"  he  said :  "  I  was 
there." 

Mr.  Parmenter  was  either  too  angry  or  too  much 
occupied  to  answer;  and  Brade  walked  straight  over 
to  Rector  "Warren,  who  was  just  coming  forward,  and 
said,  "  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,  sir :  I  can't  speak  this ! " 


BENEFACTORS'  DAY.  393 

Rector  Warren,  also,  seemed  too  much  occupied  to 
give  him  much  heed,  and  came  forward  in  a  hasty 
mood,  Hke  the  rest,  and  said :  — 

"  This  is  some  mischievous  prank.  Of  course  no  boy 
in  School" — 

The  orator,  who  had  kept  his  stand  on  the  seat,  here 
began  again :  — 

"  I  can  hardly  suppose  that  any  one  of  those  "  (from 
the  rhyme  he  seemed  unconsciously  to  take  strength) 
"  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  St.  Bartholomew's  School 
would  insult  this  solemnity  —  I  speak  advisedly  — 
this  solemnity  "  — 

"  If  he  did,  he  ought  to  smoke  for  it !  that's  all  I've 
got  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Merritt. 

By  this  time  Russell,  with  help  from  Blake  and 
others,  had  rid  the  arch  of  its  incongruous  hangings. 
The  fiddle  (a  very  rough  thing)  was  handed  about 
among  the  boys  with  some  laughter,  —  Will  Hirsett, 
with  a  grin,  trying  to  play  upon  it  like  a  banjo.  Mr. 
Parmenter  had  recovered  himself. 

"  We've  had  our  little  interruption,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  One  of  the  poets  assures  us  that  '  the  wisest  plans  of 
mice  and  men  often  go  wrong.'  Our  young  orators 
won't  be  in  the  mood  for  speaking.  I've  just  got  from 
town  a  quantity  of  West  India  fruit.  With  the  consent 
of  the  Trustees  and  the  Rector  of  the  School,  I  will 
ask  the  Rector's  acceptance  of  it,  for  the  boys,  and 
propose  to  adjourn  till  the  great  match  on  the  ice, 
with  three  cheers  for  St.  Bartholomew's  School." 

"  I'd  sooner  break  up  the  fiddle  than  break  up  the 
meeting,"  said  Mrs.  Wadham. 

Mr.  Parmenter's  proposition  was  at  once  adopted  by 
everybody,  and,  after  three  huzzas,  in  which  the  bottle- 
17* 


394  ANTONY  BRADE. 

neck  and  the  fiddle  bore  a  conspicuous  part,  the  gather- 
ing broke  up. 

"  How  strangely  we  are  made ! "  said  Dr.  Fai-well 
comfortably,  having  sunk  down  in  'a  corner  of  the 
sleigh  and  drawn  up  the  robes.  "  Sometimes  it  seems 
as  if  we  had  the  wrong  parts  :  my  heart  was  meant  for 
a  soldier, —  a  Caesar  or  a  Bonaparte.  If  there'd  been  a 
concealed  rebellion  under  that  bottle  and  that  violin,  I 
felt  when  I  was  speaking  as  if  I  wanted  to  face  it,  to 
put  it  down ! "  His  hands  being  still  in  his  coat-pockets, 
he  emphasized  by  setting  his  lips  firmly  together,  and 
flapping  his  elbows  against  his  sides. 

"  It  won't  do  to  let  that  stop  here,"  said  Mr.  Merritt 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  MATCH   ON  THE  ICE. 

«  The  Great  Middle  Class,"  the  self-confident  Third 
Form,  had  got  the  Fourth  to  join  them,  and  had  chal- 
lenged the  rest  of  the  School,  at  hockey,  on  Lake  Thrash ; 
and  the  school  was  eager  to  "  stop  the  bragging  of  those 
everlasting  Thirds."  Stores  of  hockey-sticks  had  been 
laid  in  ;  Blake  making  much  fun  witli  his  queer-looking 
set,  and  Towne  much  show  of  his,  while  Gaston  bragged 
of  one  favorite  that  it  was  "  tough  as  the  oak  on  Alpine 
heights,  that  wrestles  with  the  winds,  this  way  and  that, 
at  ipsa  hoiret  scopulis" 

The  boys  had  not  been  to  the  lake  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  rain ;  but  there  had  been  a  day  or  two  of 
steady  freezing. 

The  day,  as  we  have  seen,  was  splendid ;  and  noth- 
ing that  had  happened,  or  "might,  could,  would,  or 
should"  happen,  was  to  hinder  or  hamper  the  sport  of 
that  afternoon.  All  day  the  flags  were  flying  on  the 
boat-houses  at  the  lake.  All  day  the  whole  landscape 
—  beautiful  as  it  was,  with  ups  and  downs,  and  sweep- 
ing, wooded  dales  —  was  sending  back  to  the  sun,  from 
its  smooth,  icy  crust,  a  dazzling  splendor.  No  wind 
was  blowing,  and  the  steady  cold  seemed  breaking 
again. 

The  match  was  to  come  off  at  two  o'clock,  precisely. 


396  ANTONY  BRADE. 


Russell  was  to  call  the  game  at  that  hour ;  and,  after 
that,  "whoever  was  not  on  the  spot,  it  was  his  own 
loss."  Dinner  was  hurried,  as  we  may  suppose,  and  but 
half  eaten,  and  then,  in  troops,  the  boys  went  down, 
the  smallest  ones,  of  course,  leading  the  rest.  All  were 
merry  as  kids  and  kittens. 

One  company,  in  which  are  Will  Hirsett,  Wilkins, 
Dover,  Ransom,  and  Wadham,  Second,  are  rehearsing 
the  more  eminent  attractions. 

"  Ned  Prouty  is  to  be  there  with  his  French  horn ; " 
and  "  there's  to  be  the  biggest  bonfire  that  was  ever 
seen,  —  Mr.  Stout  has  carried  down  ever  so  much  cord- 
wood  ; "  and  "  there's  to  be  coffee,  and  chocolate,  and 
lemonade,  just  as  people  like."  "Do  you  hear  that? 
There's  Prouty!  There  ain't  a  man  in  the  United 
States  can  beat  him ! " 

Our  readers,  to  have  the  scene  well  before  them,  must 
remember  that  one  of  the  chief  beauties  of  this  lake 
abounding  in  beauties  (may  ruthless  and  tasteless  road- 
makers  never  spoil  it ! )  is  St.  Bart's  Bay.  To  make  this, 
the  western  shore,  at  less  than  half  a  mile's  distance 
from  the  northern,  trends  away,  rounding  Crystal  Point ; 
and  then  the  bay,  or  cove,  sets  in  for  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  to  the  westward.  The  southern  or  further  shore 
of  this  bay  is  winding  and  wooded,  with  granite  cliffs 
half-way  toward  the  west,  and  then  a  beach.  The  north- 
ern shore  winds  less.  On  this,  and  about  as  far  from 
the  west  as  Crystal  Point,  stand  the  boys'  boat-houses. 

The  scene  now  lies  before  us.  Yonder  up  the  bay,  and 
over,  near  the  southern  shore,  are  people  gathering.  On 
%\\e  road,  along  the  western  end,  can  be  descried  horses 
and  slefghrloads  of  people;  and  there  are  janglings  and 
^inklings  of  sleigh-bells  qii  ^he  way.     From  the  lake 


THE  MATCH  ON   THE  ICE.  397 

a  blue  smoke  is  beginning  to  curl  upward  in  the  still 
air ;  and  there  are  boys,  we  may  be  sure,  busy  as  ants, 
feeding  and  fanning  the  flames. 

A  line  of  flags,  on  short  staves,  stretches  across  from 
inside  of  Boat-house-pier  to  the  shore  inside  of  Crystal 
Point. 

From  the  far  gathering  comes,  now  and  then,  a  sin- 
gle living  note  or  two  of  Prouty's  French  horn,  as  if 
thrown  out  to  stir  and  waken,  as  they  do,  the  merri- 
ment and  happiness  of  every  thing  about. 

"  What  flag  is  that  ?  "  asked  Russell,  as  soon  as  the 
turn  on  the  lake-path  brought  the  boat-houses  into 
sight.     "  There's  the  Caput,  already ! " 

"  Why,  that's  the  old  Admiral's  bunting ! "  said  Blake. 
"  Don't  you  see  the  S.  B.  and  the  dagger  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Russell.  "  I  don't  mean  that :  what's 
that  one  over  the  '  eight-oar '  ?  I  never  saw  it  before. 
It  wasn't  there  this  morning." 

"That's  Peters's,"  said  Meadows,  who  was  witliin 
hearing.  "His  mother  made  it  for  the  Rosicrucian 
Nine ;  and  they're  going  to  wear  their  red-cross  shirts 
to-day.     It's  all  silk." 

Russell  spoke  again  :  — 

"Now,  see  here,  fellows !  just  at  this  turn,  where 
nobody  can  help  seeing,  we've  got  a  sign  up,  '  WARN- 
ING !  Look  out  and  don't  go  east  of  the  flags,  for 
YOUR  LIFE  ! '  Mr.  Folsom  made  us  ten  of  'em,  and 
we've  got  some  on  the  flag-staffs,  and  some  all  round. 
There's  been  notice  given  twice  in  school,  and  we've 
got  to  do  it  again  down  here.  Has  Brade  come  down 
yet?  •  He's  got  the  ball." 

"Maybe  he  feels  badly  about  this  morning,  and  won't 
come,"  said  Hutchins. 


398  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"  Poll !  That  isn't  the  stuff  he's  made  of,  let  me  tell 
you,"  answered  Blake.  /'Mr.  Parmenter  don't  get  over 
it  so  easy,  I  bet  you !     Wa'n't  the  Caput  wrathy  ?  " 

"  Brade  was  mad :  who  wouldn't  be  ?  "  said  Russell. 
"  But  when  he  found  everybody  knew  he  was  right,  he 
didn't  care.  Now,  fellows,  the  sun  lies  too  much  on  our 
side  of  the  bay  ;  we've  got  to  work  over  toward  the  other 
shore,  so  we've  had  the  floats*  from  the  boat-houses, 
and  any  thing  else  we  could  get,  carried  over  that  way 
for  seats  and  standing.  Look  at  the  spectators !  All 
Eastham  '11  be  down,  you  see  if  they  don't.  Call  all. 
the  fellows  up  here,  will  you?     Where's  Prouty  ?" 

Straightway  began  all  manner  of  calls  and  cries,  for 
Prouty  was  over  near  the  other  side;  but  the  boys 
gathered  as  dutifully  as  bees  to  kindred  music. 

"  There's  a  squad  of  fellows  coasting  down  that  bank! 
call  'em,  Walters,  will  you  ?  "  said  Russell,  whose  eye 
was,  as  it  ought  to  be,  over  the  whole  field  of  sight. 
"  The  Caput's  there,  and  Mr.  Bruce  and  Mr.  Ilamersley ; 
and  thei-e's  Mr.  Manson  ;  and  there  are  the  Wadhams, 
and  Mr,  Parmenter,  and  Dr.  Farwell,  and  lots  of  'era. 
Kow,  fellows,  look  here !  "  he  said,  as  the  boys  on  this 
side  of  the  lake  gathered,  "  there  isn't  any  safety  out- 
side of  the  line  from  here  to  Crystal  Point,  because 
they've  been  cutting  ice.  The  place  is  all  u])  in  our 
bay ;  and  then  we've  got  to  go  away  over  to  the  other 
side  to  get  out  of  the  sun.  (Wilkins  !  don't  make  such 
a  noise,  please,  we're  laying  down  the  rules  again,  and 
the  lives  of  some  fellows  may  depend  upon  it.  Every- 
body's got  to  listen.)     Now,  we've  got  four  base-ball 

*  So  the  landing-bridges  were  called  at  St.  Bart's  ;  rafts  hinged- 
Tip  to  the  boat-houses,  and  with  the  lower  ends  floating  freely  on 
timbers. 


THE  MATCH  ON   THE  WE.  399 

ll:igs  set  right  across,  clear  of  all  danger.  (You  see 
where  Lamsou's  looking  at  'em.)  Nobody's  to  go  out- 
side of  that  line  to  the  eastward ;  inside  there's  no  dan- 
ger. If  you  see  anybody  undertaking  to  pass  that  line, 
knock  him  down!  Now  we've  got  seven  minutes  to 
get  over  there  and  begin." 

A  shout  followed  Russell's  laying  down  of  the  law, 
showing  the  School's  acquiescence  in  the  requirements 
of  recognized  authority.  The  sound  of  Ned  Prouty's 
horn  came,  smooth,  and  clear,  and  ins^jiring,  across  the 
ice.  A  tScots  tune,  —  "  Come  through  the  heather ! 
Around  him  gather  !  Ye're  a'  the  welcomer  early,"  and 
BO  on,  Frouty  was  playing;  and  away  the  boys  went,  large 
and  small,  Russell,  and  Blake,  and  Walters,  no  less  than 
Plirsett,  and  Wilkins,  and  Meadows,  and  lesser  ones,  to 
the  edge  of  the  ice,  and  j)ut  on  their  skates,  and  were 
ofl'to  see  which  would  come  first  to  the  ground.  Prouty 
was  beginning  Yankee  Doodle. 

"There's  Brade,  now!"  cried  some  of  the  hindmost, 
who  began  beckoning  with  hands,  and  arms,  and  hats, 
and  caps,  to  hurry  the  loiterers,  —  two  or  three  boys 
who  were  now  doing  their  best  to  make  up  for  lost 
time. 

Yankee  Doodle,  well  played,  is  enough,  almost,  to 
se*:  the  very  trees  off  their  standing.  The  boys  from 
the  edge  of  the  lake  were  all  scampering  over  the  ice 
toward  the  further  side,  after  giving  their  last  shout  to 
Brade  and  his  friends  to  hurry  ;  and,  hurry-scurry  dgwn 
the  hill,  come  the  three  laggards. 

They  near  the  bend  in  the  boat-house  path,  by  which 
the  warning-board  is  set,  in  full  sight ;  and  Peters  cries 
out,  in  triumph,  — 

"  There  she  is !  Look  at  her !  Isn't  the  red  cross  a 
beauty ! " 


400  ANTONY  BRADE. 


They  all  look  over  at  the  flags. 

Peters  was  strongly  inclined  to  linger  and  admire ; 
but  there  was  no  time.  Panting,  they  all  agreed,  as 
they  ran,  that  the  red  cross  was  the  handsomest  flag  in 
the  School. 

"  There's  the  Caput,  and  everybody ! "  cried  Brade, 
panting.     "  Down  with  us !  " 

Ned  Prouty's  music  came  as  fresh  and  clear  across 
the  lake  as  if  on  its  way  it  had  gathered  sparkle  and 
tinkle  from  the  frozen  water;  and  it  seemed  to  be 
joined  by  accordant  notes  from  hill  and  dale. 

The  three  late-comers  are  at  the  bank.  An  inartic- 
ulate noise  of  voices  from  the  further  side  comes  to  their 
ears,  and  they  can  understand  it,  without  distinguish- 
ing a  word,  to  be  a  call,  from  fifty  tongues,  to  hurry. 
One  or  two  boys  set  oflf  from  the  crowd  to  meet  them. 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  this  ball ! "  said  Brade  ;  and  he 
held  up  to  be  seen,  if  it  might,  at  the  other  side,  the 
ball  which  he  had  in  charge. 

"  Plaguy  thing ! "  said  Peters.  "  Long  enough  we 
looked  for  it!" 

"  Play's  called !  They're  at  it  now !  Those  fellows; 
are  going  back ! "  cried  Remsen ;  and,  in  an  instant,  the 
three  were  on  the  lake. 

The  French  horn  had  ceased  to  play. 

"  There  it  goes ! "  said  Brade,  who  tripped  at  the 
edge  of  the  ice,  and  lost  the  ball  from  his  hand.  The 
ball  skimmed  over  the  smooth  surface,  and  the  loser 
started  after  it.  Remsen,  as  he  put  on  his  skates,  called 
out, — 

"  Look  out  for  thin  ice ! " 

Peters  started  up.  "  Wher^s  the  line  ? "  he  cried, 
j&ightened,  and  set  ofij  without  his  skates,  as  Brade  was, 


THE  MATCH  ON  THE  ICE.  401 

to  follow.  Already  Brade  had  come  so  near  the  ball 
as  to  have  touched  it  with  his  hockey-stick,  but,  failing 
to  catch  it,  he  had,  of  course,  given  it  a  new  start. 

Now,  from  the  other  side,  came  one  far  shout,  whose 
words  were  indistinguishable.  Then  arose  an  inartic- 
ulate din,  and  a  rush,  Peters  called  to  Brade  to  stop, 
but  followed  on  himself  as  fast  as  he  could  run  on  the 
glossy  level,  still  shouting.  The  din  from  the  crowd 
became  an  uproar. 

"  I've  got  it !  "  cried  Brade ;  and  at  the  very  instant 
there  was  a  sound  of  rending  of  the  ice  in  all  directions, 
and  a  dreadful  plunge,  and  the  boy  was  in  the  lake, 
where  the  water  was  deep  enough  to  float  a  ship  of 
the  line  like  a  leaf. 

The  din,  which  had  been  continually  drawing  nearer, 
suddenly  became  an  utter  stillness,  as  if  the  splash  in  the 
deadly  water  had  swallowed  up  every  living  soul,  ex- 
cept one  figure  not  far  away  from  the  frightful  scene, 
and  one  among  the  on-lookers  afar. 

Peters  uttered  a  shriek,  and  for  an  instant  faltered. 
A  terrible  cry  of  agony,  in  a  girl's  voice,  clear  as  the 
track  of  lightning  through  the  air,  and  leaving  a  stillness 
as  utter  as  is  the  blackness  after  the  flash,  came  from 
the  bay. 

"  Stop,  Peters ! "  shouted  the  Caput's  voice ;  "  and 
evei-ybody  that  can't  help,  do  keep  away !  Keep  back ! 
Keep  back  !     Where  are  the  floats  ?  " 

Mr.  Parmenter  appeared  at  his  best  here,  and  was 
quick  and  business-like.  He  sent  for  medical  men ;  he 
sent  for  ropes.  Everybody  was  eager  to  help,  —  to  go 
or  stay.  Horses  and  sleighs  were  ready ;  lives,  —  every 
thing. 

Peters  half  turned  his  head  ;  but  all  along  now  he 
z 


402  ANTONY  BRADE. 


guided  liimself  by  some  rule  of  his  own.  He  did  not 
rush  headlong  a  single  heedless  step,  and  yet  he  hur- 
ried forward,  bending  over,  steadied  by  his  hockey- 
stick,  and  peering  at  the  ice  as  he  went,  and  never 
taking  off  his  eyes  from  the  faithless  and  dangerous 
ground  on  which  he  was  setting  his  feet. 

Shouts  that  he  could  not  have  failed  to  hear  called 
him  by  name.  He  never  turned ;  he  never  gave  the 
least  heed.  Every  thought,  and  all  his  life,  seemed 
to  be  given  to  the  one  thing  that  he  was  doing. 

A  gasping,  choking  cry  came  from  the  drowning 
boy ;  and  the  noise  of  ice  breaking  again  and  again,  as 
Brade,  in  his  struggle  to  save  himself  out  of  death,  in 
which  he  was  already,  clutched  again  and  again  the 
treacherous  water's  crust.     Peters  groaned. 

"•  Keep  up !  keep  up  ! "  he  shouted.  "  I'll  help  "  (the 
word  he  was  so  fond  of),  and,  never  lifting  his  eyes 
from  the  ice,  he  went  on. 

Now,  suddenly,  he  changes  his  way;  and,  never  stop- 
]>ing,  goes  down,  full  length,  upon  the  ice,  and  pushing 
his  hockey-stick  before  him,  works  himself  forward 
with  his  left  hand,  slowly  perhaps,  but  he  has  not  far 
to  go. 

"  Catch  hold  of  me  !  Remsen !  some  one ! "  he  cried, 
working  himself  forward. 

By  this  time  the  noise  from  all  sides  had  gathered, 
till  it  had  become  like  the  roar  of  the  sea.  Some  sounds 
might  be  distinguished ;  but  there  was  one  that  made 
itself  felt,  as  if  it  were  from  the  very  soul  of  the  scene, 
—  a  pleading  cry  from  that  girl's  voice,  which  had  been 
heard  belbre. 

Meantime,  and  all  the  wliile,  the  mass  of  human  life 
that  was  near  this   struggle  with  sudden  death   was 


THE  MATCH  ON  THE  ICE.  403 

hurriedly  bringing  all  it  had,  of  strength  and  wisdom, 
to  the  rescue.  Dr.  Evans  and  Dr.  Mott,  of  Weston, 
had  been  sent  for  by  Mr.  Parmenter.  It  seemed  long, 
long ;  but  it  was  only  two  or  three  minutes  since  the 
boy  had  broken  through.  There  had  been  a  half  mile 
to  come  over;  but  the  rush  to  the  rescue  had  begun 
the  moment  that  Brade  started  the  wrong  way  from  the 
shore. 

"  Catch  hold !  "  cried  one  of  the  foremost  of  those 
who  were  running  upon  the  ice,  but  still  a  little  way 
off.     He  seemed  to  be  repeating  Peters's  call. 

It  was  the  new  tutor,  Mr.  Hamersley,  deathly  pale. 
He  stripped  himself  of  his  outer  coat,  as  he  ran,  and 
let  it  fall. 

"Make  a  line  of  men,  right  here,  at  these  flags!" 
said  Rector  Warren,  assisted  by  Mr.  Parmenter  and 
others,  who  all  were  near  enough  now  to  help. 

"  The  ropes  are  coming,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  beck- 
oning to  bring  them. 

There  was  a  hurried  sound  of  tram))ling  and  of  sleigh- 
bells  close  at  hand,  and  a  confused  shout,  and  the  line 
opened.  A  horse  came  through,  and  behind  him,  on  a 
large  boat-house-float,  to  which  he  was  harnessed,  was 
Mr.  Stout,  with  three  or  four  boys.  Others  of  the 
Tutors,  too,  were  close  by  to  give  their  help. 

Mr.  Hamei'sley,  following  Peters's  plan,  had  already 
gone  down  flat  upon  the  ice,  and  was  working  himself 
fo"ward,  as  Peters  had  done ;  but  the  leader  was  still 
many  yards  ahead,  and  working  on. 

Oh,  what  a  siglit  it  was !  Amid  the  broken  floes  of 
ice,  Brade's  head  could  be  descried,  and  his  arms,  lay- 
ing themselves  on  one  support  after  another,  which 
gave  way  as  he  tiied  it.  A  sort  of  drowning  moan 
came  from  hiui. 


404  ANTONY  BRADE. 


"  Here  !  Here  ! "  cried  Peters  ;  and  Brade  struck  out 
for  him.  The  hooked  stick,  thrust  out  ahead,  was  near- 
ing  the  water;  but  the  ice  broke,  as  Brade  put  up  his 
arms  upon  it.  The  haggard  boy  already  looked  like 
one  belonging  to  The  Dead. 

"  I'm  coming,  Peters,  —  brave  boy !  "  said  Mr.  Ham- 
ersley. 

Without  a  single  word,  but  with  his  lips  set  fast 
together,  Mr.  Stout  had  unhitched  his  horse,  as  soon  as 
lie  got  a  little  way  clear  of  the  throng,  and  had  given 
him  in  charge  to  Lamson,  to  lead  back.  Between  the 
silent  man  and  the  three  silent  boys  who  stayed  with 
him  (Remsen  was  one,  and  Blake  was  one,  and  Towne 
was  one),  there  seemed  a  perfect  understanding.  All 
four  worked  together  as  instantly  as  if  they  had  a  sin- 
gle will,  and  had  done  this  same  work  many  a  time 
before.  The  Rector  of  the  School  came  up.  He  saw 
that  all  was  going  well,  and,  saying  nothing,  joined  him- 
self to  the  party,  looking  agonizingly  towards  the  fatal 
struggle,  and  laying  hold,  with  the  foremost,  of  one  of 
the  fasts  of  the  float,  to  urge  it  forward. 

"  One  o'  them  ropes !  from  Prouty ! "  said  Mr.  Stout, 
briefly,  to  Blake  ;  "  and  follow  right  uj)  1 "  The  kindly 
French-horn-player  was  already  near. 

Before  the  words  could  have  been  understood,  the 
Rector  had  rushed  toward  the  advancing  messengers, 
and  in  another  moment  was  back  again,  close  upon  the 
light  raft  of  boards  now  sliding  fast  over  the  glossy  ice 
to  the  danger,  and  had  flung  a  coil  of  rope  upon  the 
middle  of  it. 

There  was  a  great  noise  of  men's  and  women's  voices, 
and  yet  there  were  those  who  marked  the  frightful, 
haggard  face  of  Kate  Ryan,  as,  yielding  and  trusting  to 


THE  MATCH'  ON   THE   ICE.  405 

Mr.  Manson,  she  was  led  and  half  borne  away  by 
him. 

But  a  cry  suddenly  goes  up,  —  "  He's  got  him ! "  and  a 
soi't  of  unthinking  start  forward  was  made  by  the 
crowd,  but  instantly  checked. 

Peters's  hook  seemed  to  have  caught  Brade's  cloth- 
ing, or  to  have  been  grappled  by  the  drowning  boy. 
Some  sound  was  made  by  Peters,  as  if  he  would  speak ; 
but  no  words  wei*e  heard.  Mr.  Hamersley  pushed  him- 
self forward. 

"  Hold  on  !  hold  on,  Peters !  "  he  said,  —  «  hold  on !  " 

"  That  other  boy  ought  to  be  stopped !  "  the  crowd 
shouted ;  but  Peters  heeded  nothing  but  his  purpose. 

Mr.  Stout,  with  his  crew,  had  never  halted  or  hesi- 
tated for  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"Now,  Blake,  there's  new  ice,"  he  said.  "You  and 
I  stay  back  "  (all  the  while  he  was  fastening  a  rope  with 
a  long  free  end  to  the  front  part  of  the  float,  then  going 
to  the  back  and  making  a  running  noose  there). 
"  ToAvne ! "  —  he  began. 

Another  of  the  fatal  crackings  of  the  ice  was  heard, 
and  Peters  was  in  the  ice-cold  water !  A  shout  of 
horror  went  ujj  from  those  who  were  looking  on  and 
could  not  help.  Again  a  start  was  made  by  the  crowd; 
but  it  was  checked. 

Mr.  Stout  cast  one  glance.  "Be  we  all  going  in?" 
he  said ;  but  his  hands  kept  about  their  business  all 
the  time. 

"  Stop  that  man !  Don't  let  anybody  else  be  di-owned  '•" 
shouted  the  crowd. 

"  Bring  on  your  raft ! "  called  Mr.  Hamersley,  now 
rising  to  hands  and  knees,  and  so  still  making  his  way 
forward,  almost  as  if  lie  were  running. 


406  ANTONY  BRADE. 

"O  great  and  loving  God!  Help!  help!  forjosus's 
sake ! "  cried  Rector  Warren,  baring  his  head,  and  fling- 
ing his  arms  forth. 

"  Amen  !  Lord !  Lord  ! "  cried  many  a  voice, 

"  Where's  that  other  float  ?  "  Mr.  Stout  called,  as  he 
finished  with  the  first.  "  Towne,  yon  and  Remsen 
must  do  it  now.  Down  on  your  bellies  !  "  (it  was  done 
before  it  was  said)  "  I  won't  tie  you ;  trust  to  your  gri]), 
if  the  icorld  goes,  and  look  to  God  ! "  said  Mr.  Stout. 

The  boys  were  offj  shoving  the  raft  from  behind, 
while  Mr.  Stout  and  Blake  "paid  out"  the  rope,  fling-, 
ing  the  end  back  to  be  grasped  by  those  behind,  —  the 
first  of  whom,  of  course,  was  the  most  interested,  Rector 
W^arren.     "  Wait,  Hamersley  ! "  he  shouted. 

A  crash,  and  Tutor  Hamersley  was  in  the  icy  water, 
as  if  of  his  own  will.  He  did  not  sink,  and,  to  the  hor- 
ror of  the  lookers-on,  his  was  the  only  head  to  be  seen 
among  the  floes. 

"  Keep  your  fast  grip  I "  said  Mr.  Stout,  in  a  clear, 
low  voice.  "  Cling  to  your  raft !  "  and  so  the  boys 
pushed  forward,  and  the  rope  slid  through  his  hand. 

Already  Mr.  Wilson  and  others  had  brought  a  second 
float,  and  made  it  ready.  The  Rector  seized  and  helped 
it  forward.  Mr.  Parmenter  expostulated  against  his 
running  needless  risks  ;  but,  with  his  hired  men,  helped. 

The  Tutor  struck  out  among  the  floating  ice,  and 
grappled  something. 

"  Now,  now  ! "  he  cried. 

"  Now  !  "  said  the  crowd,  "  on  with  your  raft ! " 

Remson  and  Towne  pushed  forward  bravely.  Mr. 
Hamersley  seized  their  raft,  and  got  one  elbow  up  upon 
it.  Instantly  Mr.  Stout  called  to  his  boys  to  back 
away,  and  they  came  safely  out. 


THE  MATCH  ON  THE  ICE.  407 

Meanwhile,  with  both  hands  and  his  one  free  arm, 
Mr.  ITaniersley  strove  to  heave  a  senseless,  heavy  mass 
out  of  the  water.  The  second  raft  went  forward,  a 
little  way  off. 

"  Here,  boys ! "  said  Mr.  Stout,  shoving  with  his  foot 
a  piece  of  scantling.  "  Tilt  your  float  up  with  this,  and 
while  you're  doing  it  keep  tight  hold  to  your  raft ! " 

Even  while  he  was  speaking  to  them,  he  flung  a  rope 
to  Mr.  Hamersley.  Then  to  the  boys,  again :  "  Now 
prize  it  up,  further  along ;  but  look  out  and  hold  tight !  " 
he  added. 

The  work  went  on  as  fast  as  speech  almost,  and  yet 
the  time  seemed  to  be  Avasting. 

"  Quick !  quick !  can't  anybody  help  him  ? "  said 
the  crowd. 

Beloved  and  esteemed  as  Brade  was,  the  persevering 
heroism  of  the  boy  who  had  fearlessly,  and  not  at  all 
unwisely,  but  thoughtfully,  bestowed  his  life  to  save  the 
othei-,  had  so  impressed  all  witnesses  that  a  cry  went 
up,  "  Have  you  got  Peters  ?    Is  it  Peters  ?  " 

The  lifting  and  sloping  of  the  raft  was  not  all  that 
was  wanted ;  but  yet  it  helped  the  faithful  worker  in 
that  chilling  water. 

"  Haul !  haul!  "  he  cried  out,  luiskily. 

There  seemed  a  great  throb  in  the  air  from  the  crowd, 
and  a  low  sobbing,  as  from  one  man,  while  the  soaked, 
heavy,  lifeless  mass  was  dragged  over  the  cracking 
ice. 

"Brade!  Brade!  "  said  the  crowd. 

"  Now  one  tremendous  shove !  with  all  your  might ! " 
cried  Rector  Warren,  whose  movements  had  been  little 
noticed,  but  who  Avas  working  in  a  sort  of  frenzy.  As 
the  new  float  darted  forward,  he  flunsf  himself  at  full 


408  ANTONY  BItADE. 

length  on  it,  and  went  out.  The  ice  cracked,  but  did 
not  give  way. 

"  Who's  saving  that  man?"  cried  the  crowd.  "He 
can't  live  there." 

"  Get  Hamersley  out ! "  said  Dr.  Evans,  who  had  just 
come,  "  or  you'll  have  another  patient  for  me.  Take 
this  boy  carefully,  and  carry  him  gently.  Don't  jolt 
him.  As  fast  as  you  can  go,  and  go  gently.  The 
School's  the  nearest  place." 

Ned  Prouty  took  the  heavy,  dripping  mass  like  a 
baby,  and  bore  it  tenderly.  Remsen  and  others  fol- 
lowed. 

Mr.  Stout  kept  steadily  at  his  work,  without  a  word  ; 
and,  before  the  poor  boy's  body  had  been  taken  off,  its 
rescuer  had  been  dragged  to  solid  ice,  sinking,  and 
shivering,  and  shaking,  livid  and  nearly  dead,  but 
mindful  enough  to  gasp  a  single  word,  "  Peters!  " 

Two  of  his  brother-tutors  bore  him  off. 

Now  all  thoughts  were  turned  to  Peters. 

The  Rector  of  the  School,  on  hands  and  knees, 
peered  for  an  instant  from'  the  float,  which. had  been 
checked  just  as  it  reached  the  edge,  and  then  threw 
himself  in  among  the  floating  cakes  of  ice  and  struck 
out  definitely. 

"  He  sees  the  other ! "  was  the  cry  of  strangers.  Many 
said,  "  He's  after  Peters ! " 

He  had  got  something,  and  among  cakes  of  ice  made 
his  way  back  and  got  the  rope  in  some  way  fastened 
round  his  burden,  then  helped  it  up. 

"  Remember  bones  and  flesh,  men !  pull  easy ! "  said 
Mr.  Stout ;  and  the  neighbors  were  gentle  and  tender 
enough.  It  was  drawn  out  as  fast  as  a  heavy  and 
jointed  body  could  be  drawn  out  of  the  water,  and 


THE  MATCH  ON  THE  ICE.  409 

over  the  breaking,  thin  ice.  Once  on  the  float,  and  it 
was  in  their  hands  in  a  moment. 

There  was  no  crowding  or  rudeness.  There  was  no 
cry,  as  there  had  been  before.  The  crowd  of  neighbors 
held  themselves  back ;  tEe  boys  kept  a  little  aloof. 

"  There's  a  hero,  if  ever  anybody  was ! "  said  Mr. 
Stout,  still  working.  No  one  else  spoke  ;  but  there  was 
a  reverent  and  tender  way  about  all,  which  showed  that 
they  all  thought  one  thing. 

"  It  isn't  the  first  brave  thing  he's  done,"  said  Blake, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Mr.  Stout's  float  was  shoved  out  to  the  Rector  with- 
out an  instant's  delay. 

As  the  Red  Cross  came  to  sight,  on  Peters's  bosom, 
Towne  said,  kindly,  "  Those  flags  ought  to  be  half- 
mast  ! "  but  Blake  said,  "  I  wouldn't  fuss  with  'em ;  I 
believe  that's  death !  "    Russell  approved. 

As  they  bore  off"  the  body,  tenderly  and  reverently, 
the  Rector,  with  help,  followed.  Mr.  Parmenter's  sleigh 
was  ready  for  him ;  but  it  seemed  best  that  he  should 
walk ;  and  so,  with  help,  he  followed  the  bearers  up 
the  hill. 

The  crowd  broke  up.  Many  followed ;  many  lin- 
gered; many  went  sadly  from  the  gloomy  spot,  in 
different  directions  across  the  ice. 

Mr.  Stout  steadily  gathered  up  the  ropes ;  gave  to 
some  of  the  men,  who  offered  themselves  freely,  a  few 
directions  about  gathering  the  property  together  and 
putting  it  back ;  then  glanced  at  the  fire,  blazing  alone 
upon  the  ice,  and  the  flags  flying  for  the  holiday,  and 
turned  to  go. 

"  It's  my  opinion,"  said  he,  "  if  there'd  ben  another 
18 


410  ANTONY  BRADE. 

boy  to  follow  Peters  and  hang  on  to  him,  they'd  all 
have  been  here  alive." 

"  You  mean  Remsen  ? "  asked  Towne,  who  had 
waited,  silently. 

"  I  don't  say  that,  but  if  there'd  been  somebody  to 
follow  up.  £ut — 'tis  so,  and  I  suppose  'twas  meant 
to  be  so." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

OUR    8T0RT  IS    ENDED. 

This  great  happening  will  bring  the  end  to  our 
story. 

A  telegraphic  message  was  at  once  sent  to  a  friend 
of  Mrs.  Peters,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  widow. 

Almost  as  soon  as  Proutyhad  borne  Brade's  body  in, 
came  Mrs.  Ryan,  agonized  with  grief  and  fear,  and  in- 
sisted upon  being  "  let  go  in  to  the  child."  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham,  who  during  that  dreadful  time  had  planted  herself 
in  the  house,  and  was  anywhere  at  any  moment,  to  be 
of  use,  was  at  that  moment  within  sight  and  hearing, 
and  tried  to  take  charge  of  her  and  jDrevent  her  intru- 
sion upon  Dr.  Evans  and  his  helpers. 

"Bring  me  to  the  Rector!  —  Mr.  Warren!"  cried 
the  other,  almost  frenzied. 

"But  Mr.  Warren's  in  the  water  himself,  or  drowned, 
by  this  time,"  answered  Mrs.  Wadham,  solemnly. 

The  sad  procession  with  Peters's  body  struck  all 
dumb;  but  Rector  Warren,  who  followed,  weak  and 
shivering,  called  Mrs.  Wadham,  and  begged  her  to  tell 
the  doctor  that  "  Mrs.  Ryan  had  a  right  to  be  in  the 
room,  if  any  one." 

Mr,  Parmenter,  who  had  come  up  with  him,  asked 
"  whether  that  would  be  entirely  wise,"  but  did  not 
press  his  obiection  ;  and  Mrs.  Wadham  undertook  the 


412  ANTONY  BRADE. 

charge,  following  close  upon  the  beai-ers.  Philip  Rainor, 
who,  with  a  strange  pertinacity,  tried  to  force  himself 
in,  Mr,  Parmenter  effectually  kept  out. 

"  Nohody  has  any  right  here  but  my  helpers,"  said  Dr. 
Evans  when  the  message  was  delivered  to  him :  "  we 
cannot  be  hindered." 

"Try  me,  only!  Try  me!"  Mrs.  Ryan  said,  with 
hands  clasped,  and  was  let  in. 

There  was  one  short  outburst ;  but  she  only  threw 
herself  on  her  knees  ^against  the  wall,  without  hinder- 
ing the  work  which,  under  quick  orders  of  Dr.  Evans, 
went  on.  Then  she  found  herself  a  place  among  the 
workers,  and  was  most  ready. 

How  skill  and  hopefulness  and  untiring  effort  were 
used  to  set  in  motion  again  in  these  young  bodies  the 
many-working  powers  of  life  before  they  should  be 
once  for  ever  set  fast  in  stillness,  we  need  not  tell. 
Before  fairly  recovering  himself,  Mr.  Hamersley  sent  an 
urgent  request  to  be  allowed  to  help,  but  was  enjoined 
to  keep  his  bed.     Mr.  Bruce  was  there  at  work. 

Slowly  and  painfully,  but  like  true  life,  the  life  came 
back  to  Brade,  and  instantly  Mrs.  Ryan,  who  had 
already  not  failed  to  give  tender  help  to  those  who 
were  working  upon  the  other  body,  left  him  entirely 
for  tlie  other.  But  here  all  warm  chafing,  all  gentle 
forcing  in  and  out  of  the  life-feeding  air,  all  scourging 
of  the  water-soaked  soles  and  palms  of  feet  and  hands, 
showed  only  that  the  life  which  Peters  had  without 
fear  risked  was  lost  out  of  this  world  for  ever. 

Brade  was  taken  away  in  warm  blankets  to  a  bed 
elsewhere ;  and  the  faithful,  loving  work  upon  the  body 
of  his  tnie-hearted  friend  went  on  untired  far  into  the 
night  through  six  or  seven  long,  slow  hours.     The  last 


OUR   STORY  IS  ENDED.  413 

who  left  it  were  Mrs.  Ryan  and  the  Tutor.  But  all  had 
long  been  done :  life  was  not  to  come  back,  and  it  was 
left  for  dead.  As  these  two  were  folding  carefully 
the  clothes  which  had  been  stripped  off  Peters,  there 
fell  out  a  small  plate  of  silver,  on  which  was  rude, 
boyish  engraving.     Mr.  Bruce  read  it  aloud  :  — 

"  '  B.  R.  C.  —  Rosicrucians.  —  Inst.  Oct.  8,  18—,  by 
me,  A.  P.' " 

"  Poor  fellow!  So  he  was  the  whole  of  that '  secret 
society'!"  he  said. 

"  The  poor,  dear  child,  indeed ! "  said  Mrs.  Ryan, 
kissing  his  forehead. 

Meantime  the  hours  and  bells  went  on,  and  the 
Rector  made  a  point  of  having  all  in  their  places  at 
tea ;  but  the  house  was  still,  as  if  no  boys  were  in  it  but 
two,  —  the  half-living  and  the  dead,  —  save  for  the  noise 
of  doors,  as  many  neighbors  came  and  went,  or  of 
voices,  as  when  Mrs.  Wadharil  asked,  and  perhaps  asked 
again,  a  question  of  some  one  passing  the  room  in 
which  she  sat.  She  had  sent  often  to  her  own  house 
for  whatever  she  thought  might  be  of  service,  and  kept 
Eldridge  waiting  at  call.  She  explained  that  "  she  had 
scarcely  seen  Mrs.  Warren  ;  but  that  wasn't  strange. 
—  That  Mrs.  Ryan's  the  mother  of  him,  —  that's  plain 
enough  ! "  she  said. 

"  I  hope  it's  something  as  creditable  as  that,"  said 
Mr.  Parmonter. 

The  boys  were  cheered  by  knowing  that  Brade  was 
saved,  and  some  of  them  reasoned  that  Peters  had 
been  less  time  in  the  water.  Among  the  guests  in  the 
sitting-room  more  was  known,  and  the  evening  was 
gloomy.  Mrs.  Wadham  meant  to  spend  the  night; 
Mr.  Parmenter,  and   Dr.  Farwell  and  Mr.  Don,  who 


414  ANTONY  UnADE. 

were  his  guests,  stayed  late.  All  talked  in  lowered 
voices  of  the  sad  things  which  had  made  the  afternoon 
so  long  as  seemingly  to  sunder  them  by  many  a  day 
from  its  own  forx^noon.  Late  in  the  evening  Mr.  Man- 
son  came,  having  made  an  arrangement  with  the  Rector 
of  the  School  to  watch  with  Antony  Brade. 

"  The  mystery  about  him  seems  to  be  clearing  off," 
said  Mr.  Parmenter. 

"  What's  a  mystery  for,  if  it  ain't  to  be  cleared  up  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Wadham. 

"  I  take  it, '  said  Dr.  Farwell,his  elbows  resting  on  his 
chair,  and  liis  hands  spread  open,  "  that  mysteries  may 
sometimes  baffle  investigation  or  elude  investigation. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  are  times  "  — 

"  This  seems  to  have  been  a  very  harmless  mystery," 
said  Mr.  Manson. 

"  If  it^^roues  altogether  harmless  to  the  character  of 
the  School,"  said  Mr.  Parmenter,  gravely. 

"  Exactly,  sir !     I  hope  it'll  prove  so,"  said  Mr.  Don. 

"  I  don't  see  how  the  character  of  the  School  is  con- 
cerned. He's  an  orphan,  and  Mrs.  Ryan's  his  au>it. 
That's  all.  She's  an  Irishwoman,  and  made  a  secret 
of  it." 

" It  may  not  he  quite  so  harmless"  said  Mr.  Par- 
menter. 

"  Possibly  not,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Don. 

"  People  sometimes  have  reasons^''  said  Mrs.  Wad- 
ham,  with  quiet  authority. 

"You  shall  judge  for  yourselves.  Mr.  Warren  has 
known  her  for  years,  and  knows  all  about  her.  Brade, 
her  brother,  looked  high  for  his  ancestors,  amonn" 
'  Macs'  or  '  O's.'  But  then  he  made  his  living  and  a  good 
deal  of  money,  with  job-wagons  or  some  such  business. 


OVR   STORY  IS  ENDED.  415 

Just  then  the  family,  every  one,  died  off  by  fever, 
except  this  boy ;  and  his  aunt  brought  liim  up,  and,  in 
due  time,  put  him  here  under  Mr.  Warren,  and  kept 
the  relationship  to  herself." 

There  was  a  silence,  which  Mrs.  Wadham  broke  by 
saying,  — 

"  I  should  think  that  was  a  very  likely  explanation  : 
yes." 

"  It  might  explain  some  things  about  the  boy,"  said 
Mr.  Parraenter.  "  Well,  I  suppose  when  arrangements 
are  made,  we'd  better  go." 

"  Mr.  Stout  icill  sit  up  with  poor  Peters ;  but  he's 
willing  to  let  Rainor  stay  with  him, "  said  Mr.  Manson. 

"  Why,  Pve  told  that  Rainor  we  didn't  want  him 
round  here,"  Mr.  Parmenter  said  hastily. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Manson,  "  he's  not  so  bad :  you 
didn't  give  yourself  a  chance  to  hear  what  he  came 
for.  He  came  to  say  he  put  those  things  on  the 
arch." 

"  That  shows  some  degree  of  grace,  now,"  said  Dr. 
Farwell. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A    PURPOSE     FOR     LIFE. 

Beade  gained ;  but  he  gained  slowly.  He  had  not 
asked  about  Peters  since  the  first  day  that  he  spoke, 
although  he  constantly  talked  of  him.  At  length  Mr. 
Manson  sat  down,  and  tenderly  and  freely  told  him 
all :  that  "  Peters  had  ended  his  life  well,  and  entered 
into  his  rest  in  Him  who  gave  His  life  a  ransom  for 
many."  Mrs.Teters  was  in  the  room,  — looking  like  her 
son.  She  heard  the  words  and  said,  "  Yes :  he  had 
ended  his  life  well.  She  had  often  feared  for  him  in 
the  world :  now  she  should  be  at  peace.  But  she  must 
look  to  the  boy  for  whom  "  — 

"  I  can't  stay  here,  after  Peters,"  said  Brade,  trying 
to  lift  himself;  "  but,  if  I  live,  I'll  never  forget  Peters, 
and  I'll  try  to  do  as  he  said,  and  help.^^ 

"  God  give  you  grace  to  do  it,  dear  Antony  1 "  said 
his  aunt. 

Mrs.  Peters  took  the  boy's  hand,  and  kneeled,  with 
her  face  bowed  upon  the  bed,  as  if  she  prayed  the  same 
thing  in  secret. 

Mr.  Manson,  standing,  said,  — 
«  Amen  ! " 


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— • — 

"  Miss  Alcott  performed  a  brief  tour  of  hospital  duty  during  the  late  war-  Hei 
career  as  nur&e  was  terminated  by  an  attack  of  dangerous  illness.  But  she  made 
tood  use  of  her  time,  and  her  sketches  of  hospital  life,  if  briefer  than  could  be 
wished,  make  up  in  quality  what  they  lack  in  quantity.  They  are,  indeed,  the  most 
graphic  and  natural  pictures  of  life  in  the  great  army  hospitals  that  have  yet 
appeared.  Free  from  all  affected  seniimentalism,  they  blend  in  a  strange  aod 
piquant  manner  the  grave  and  gay,  the  lively  and  severe."  —  Phiht.  Inquirer. 

"  It  is  a  book  which  is  thoroughly  enjoyable,  and  with  which  little  fault  need  b« 
found.  It  is  not  a  pretentious  work,  and  the  author  has  only  aimed  at  telling  tha 
•tory  of  her  experience  as  an  army  hospital  nurse,  in  an  easy,  natural  style  ;  but  the 
incidents  which  she  has  given  us  are  so  varied,  — sometimes  amusingly  humorous 
•nd  sometimes  tenderly  pathetic,  —  and  her  narrative  is  so  simple  and  straight- 
forward and  truthful,  that  the  reader's  attention  is  chained,  and  he  finds  it  impos- 
•ible  to  resist  the  charm  of  the  pleasant,  kindly,  keen-sighted  Nurse  Perriwinkle."  — 
Round  Table. 

"  Such  is  the  title  of  a  volume  by  Miss  Louisa  M.  Alcott,  author  of  '  Little 
■"■omen,'  one  of  the  most  charming  productions  of  the  day.  Miss  Alcott  is  a  New 
lUigland  woman  of  the  best  type,  —  gifted,  refined,  progressive  in  her  opiniors, 
heroic,  self-sacrificing.  She  devoted  her  time  and  means  to  the  service  of  hei 
country  in  the  darkest  days  of  the  Rebellion,  visiting  the  camp  and  the  hospital, 
devoting  herself  to  the  care  of  the  sick  and  the  dying,  braving  danger  and  privation 
in  the  sacred  cause  of  humanity.  The  results  of  her  experience  are  embodied  ic 
these  '  Sketches,'  which  are  graphic  in  narrative,  rich  in  incident,  and  dramatic 
in  style.  Miss  Alcott  has  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and,  while  she  does  not 
trifle  with  her  subject,  seeks  to  amuse  as  well  as  instruct  her  reader.  She  has  the 
sunniest  of  tempers,  and  sees  aliumorous  side  even  to  the  sad  life  of  the  hospital." 
—  San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"This  volume  illustrates  excellently  well  the  characteristics  of  Miss  Alcott'i 
talent  as  a  novelist  Her  subjects  are  always  portions  of  her  own  experience  ;  her 
characters  always  the  people  slie  has  known,  under  slight  disguises,  or  strangely 
metamorphosed,  as  may  happen,  but  easily  to  be  recognized  by  those  who  have 
the  key  to  them.  In  this  she  resembles  many  other  writers ;  but  there  is  a  pecu- 
liar blending  of  this  realism  with  extreme  idealization  in  most  of  her  st':ries.  She 
succeeds  best  —  indeed,  she  only  tucceedt  at  all  —  in  her  real  pictures.  Her  de- 
scriptions are  as  faithful  and  as  varied  in  their  fidelity  as  life  itself,  so  long  as  she 
restricts  herself  to  what  she  has  actually  seen  and  known.  VVlien  she  cleaves  to 
real  experiences,  she  is  sure  of  her  effect ;  and  her  success  is  always  greater  in 
proportion  to  the  depth  of  the  experience  she  has  to  portray.  For  this  reason 
we  have  always  thought  'Hospital  Sketches'  her  best  piece  of  work."  —  Spring- 
Held  Republican, 

— • 

Mailed,  postpaid^  on  receipt  of  the  advertised  price^  by 
ti-e  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,   Boston 


MESSRS.  ROBERTS   BROTHERS'   PUSLI&ATiONS. 


Aunt  Jo's  Scrap-Bag. 


BY    LOUISA    M.    ALCOTT. 

Vol.  I.     Comprising  "My  Boys,"  &c.      i6mo.     Cloth,  gilt 
Price  $i.oo. 

From  the  London  A  thenitunt. 

A  collection  of  fugitive  tales  and  sketches  which  we  should  nave  been  sorry  tn 
lose.  Miss  Alcott's  boys  and  girls  are  always  delightful  in  her  hands.  She 
throws  a  loving  glamour  over  them  ;  and  she  loves  them  herself  so  heartily  thit  it 
is  not  possible  for  the  reader  to  do  otherwise.  We  have  found  the  book  very 
pleasant  to  read. 

Frotn  the  New  York  Tribune. 

The  large  and  increasing  circle  of  juveniles  who  sit  enchanted  year  in  and  out 
round  the  knees  of  Miss  Alcott  will  hail  with  delight  the  publication  of  "  Aunt 
Jo's  Scrap-Bag."  The  most  taking  of  these  taking  tales  is,  to  our  fancy,  "  My 
Boys ; "  but  all  possess  the  quality  which  made  "  Little  Women  "  so  widely  popu- 
lar, and  the  book  will  be  welcomed  and  read  from  Maine  to  Florida. 

Mrs.  Hale-,  in  Godey't  Lady's  Book. 

These  little  stories  are  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  author  of  "Little  Women." 
They  will  be  read  with  the  sincerest  pleasure  by  thousands  of  children,  and  ia 
that  pleasure  there  will  not  be  a  single  forbidden  ingredient.  "  My  Boys,"  which, 
opening  upon  by  chance,  we  read  through  at  a  sitting,  is  charming.  Ladislas,  the 
noble,  sweet-tempered  Pole,  is  the  original  of  Laurie,  ever  to  be  remembered  'y 
•11  "  Aunt  Jo's  "  readers. 

From  the  Providence  Prest. 

Dear  Aunt  Jo !  You  are  embalmed  in  the  thoughts  and  loves  of  thousand! 
of  little  men  and  little  women.  Your  scrap-bag  is  rich  in  its  stores  of  good  things. 
Pray  do  not  close  and  put  it  away  qi  ite  yet. 

This  is  Louisa  Alcott's  Christm.is  tribute  to  the  young  people,  and  it  is,  like 
htrs.e\{,  good.  In  making  selections,  "Aunt  Jo's  Scrap-Bag"  must  not  be  for- 
gotten.     Tliere  will  be  a  vacant  pl.ice  where  this  little  volume  is  not. 


Sold  rv^ryivhere.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

Aunt  Jo's  Scrap-Bag. 

By  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 

Vol.  II.,  comprising-  "  Shawl-Straps.** 

i6mo.    Cloth,  gilt.     Price  $i.oo. 

From  iht  Morning  Star. 

Nobody  expects  from  Miss  Alcott  any  thing  but  books  of  the  raciest  qiialm«t 
Bud  the  choicest  flavors.  This  story  of  her  foreign  travel,  in  company  with  two 
female  friends,  is  just  as  vivacious  and  unique  as  any  thing  previously  issued  witli 
her  name  on  the  title-page.  One  may  have  read  the  narratives  and  notes  of  forty 
tourists  over  the  same  field,  but  he  cannot  afford  to  neglect  this  story.  He  will 
find  nothing  repeated  either  in  substance  or  form.  It  is  a  new  vein  that  is  here 
Worked,  and  the  products  are  all  singularly  fresh.  It  is  a  rare  literary  bundle 
which  tliese  shawl-straps  enclose. 

Mr.  IVhipfU,  in  the  Boston  Globe. 

Roberts  Brothers  have  published  a  small  volume  the  mere  announcement  of 
which  is  enough  to  insure  its  circulation.  This  volume  is  "  Shawl-Straps,"  a 
second  part  of  "Aunt  Jo's  Scrap-Bag,"  by  Louisa  M.  Alcott,  —  a  name  well 
known  to  all  "  little  men,"  and  "  little  women,"  and  "  old-fashioned  girls,"  now 
inhabiting  the  country.  The  book  is  a  racy,  almost  rollicking  account  of  the  per- 
sonal experiences'  of  three  American  women  travelling  in  France,  Switzerland, 
Italy,  and  England. 

Miss  Alcott  carefully  abstains  from  writing  what  is  called  a  book  of  travels, 
and  confines  herself  to  giving  an  amusing  account  of  what  really  occurred  to 
herself  and  her  two  companions.  Thus,  in  London,  the  party  devoted  much 
more  time  in  hunting  up  Dickens's  characters  than  in  visiting  "  leading  objects  of 
interest."  They  nearly  succeeded  in  finding  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  actually  took  "  weal 
pie  and  porter"  at  Mrs.  Todger's.  The  description  of  Spurgeon  and  his  congre- 
gation is  the  most  life-like  we  have  ever  read.  Indeed  the  whole  tone  of  the  book 
k  that  of  conversation,  in  which  the  familiarity  of  ordinary  talk  is  accompanied 
with  more  than  ordinary  certainty  of  phrase,  so  that  her  readers  may,  in  some 
•ense,  be  said  to  join  the  party  and  become  "  Shawl-Strappists  "  themselves.  It 
may  be  added  that  one  is  never  tired  of  any  record  of  a  foreign  tour  which  makes 
him  or  her  a  companion  of  the  journey  ;  and,  as  Miss  Alcott  succeeds  in  doing 
tfiis,  the  principal  objection  which  will  be  made  to  her  book  is  its  shortness. 


Sold  nmtywhere.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 


Aunt  Jo'S  Scrap-Bag. 


CUPID    AND   CHOW-CHOW,   Etc. 


By    LOUISA    M.    ALCOTT, 

AVXHOB  OF  "LITTLE  WOMEN,"  "AN  OLD-FASHIOXED  OIKL,"  "LITTLE  MBV,' 
"HOSPITAL  SKETCHES." 


BOSTON: 
EOBEETS    BROTHEKS. 

1875. 


Messrs.  Roberts   Brothers'  Publications. 

SHAWL-STRAPS. 

By   LOUISA   M.   ALCOTT. 

BsiNG  THE  Second  Volume  of  "Aunt  Jo's  Scrap-Bag." 

One  vol.  i6mo.    Cloth.    Price  $i.oo. 


From  the  Index,  Toledo,  Ohio. 
The  capital  quality  of  Miss  Alcott's  writing  for  young  people  has  already  maAa 
her  fortune  as  an  author,  so  that  we  have  only  to  tell  what  any  new  book  is  about, 
and  to  give  it  a  cordial  welcome.  This  is  Volume  II.  out  of  the  "  Scrap- Bag," 
and  is  in  fact  a  volume  of  travels  with  a  thread  of  charming  story  in  it,  and  a  book 
of  as  much  interest  to  older  as  to  younger  readers.  Brittany,  France,  Switzerland, 
Italy,  and  London  are  visited  by  Amanda,  Matilda,  and  Lavinia,  particularly 
Lavinia;  and  we  are  told  of  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  the  party,  with  just  enough 
refeience  to  sights  and  scenes  to  give  a  good  color  to  the  story.  It  is  all  in  Miss 
Alcott's  breezy,  jolly  style,  with  plenty  of  sense  and  sensibility  stuffed  nicely  in, 
like  plums  in  a  pudding,  and  real  plums  of  good  wit  and  fine  feeling  toa  The  pub- 
lishers have  made  of  the  volume  a  very  pretty  book. 

Front  the  Boston  Transcript. 

Let  every  one  who  desires  a  bright,  cheery  view  of  European  travel  follow  the 
footsteps  of  the  brilliant  trio  whose  haps  and  mishaps  are  charmingly  pictured  in 
"  Shawl-Straps."  The  book  is  refreshing  as  cold  water  to  the  thirsty,  overflowing 
with  good  nature  which  will  bring  a  smile  to  the  soberest  face,  bubbling  with  fun 
like  the  beading  on  champagne,  full  of  the  philosophy  which  marks  character  soft- 
ened by  discipline,  and  bright  with  the  radiant  light  beaming  from  eyes  swift  to  see 
the  best  side  of  human  nature,,  and  bound  to  ignore  its  perplexities  and  troubles. 

We  have  found  real  enjoyment  in  following  in  the  track  of  the  inspired  maidens, 
sympathizing  with  the  sage  and  matronly  Lavinia,  fascinated  by  the  linguistic  and 
sprightly  Amanda,  and  admiring  the  artistic  and  flirtatious  Matilda.  "  Shawl- 
Straps  "  is  a  model  book  of  travels,  abounding  in  useful  information,  keen  per- 
ception of  the  comic,  artistic  appreciation,  and  energetic  determination  to  make  the 
best  of  every  thing,  while  dull  statistics  and  beaten  tracks  are  delightfully  thrown 
t(  the  winds. 

From  the  Liberal  Christian. 

Just  the  cheeriest,  jolliest  story  of  a  year's  sojourn  in  "foreign  parts'  that 
could  well  be  imagined.  Of  course,  judging  from  her  former  writings.  Miss 
Alcott's  account  of  her  recent  travels  could  not  fail  to  be  en  tertaining.  She  brings 
keen,  bright  eyes  to  examine  all  that  she  sees ;  she  has  much  good  conunon  senae^ 
and  a  wonderful  stock  of  wit  and  humor  which  never  fails  her. 


Sold  everyivhere'     Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers^ 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston. 


A  Posthumous  Work  by  Leigh  Hunt. 


''pHE  BOOK  OF  THE  SONNET.  Edited  by  Leigh 
J-  Hunt  and  S.  Adams  Lee.  A  posthumous  work  by  that 
celebrated  Essayist,  Leigh  Hunt,  will  naturally  attract  the  at- 
tention of  all  his  admirers.  It  is  now  first  published  from  the 
manuscript,  and  contains  an  Essay  on  English  and  Italian  Son- 
nets, with  a  Selection,  by  Leigh  Hunt  ;  an  Essay  on  American 
Sonnets,  and  a  Selection,  by  S.  Adams  Lee.  In  two  beautiful 
post  8vo  volumes.     Cloth,  gilt  top.    Price,  $  5.00. 

"  The  Essay  on  the  Sonnet,  by  Leigh  Hunt,  is  one  of  the  sprightliest,  dainti- 
est, most  genial,  and  most  intelligent  pieces  of  mingled  narrative,  exposition, 
and  criticism  which  its  accomplished  and  lovable  author  ever  wrote." — Boston 
Transcript. 

"  Leigh  Hunt  left  behind  him,  unpublished,  '  The  Book  of  tlie  Sonnet,'  con- 
»isting  of  an  '  Essay  on  the  Cultivation,  History,  and  Varieties  of  the  Species 
of  Poem  called  the  Sonnet,'  a  delightful  piece  of  thoughtful  and  tasteful  criti- 
cism, —  concluding  with  specimens  of  English  Sonnets,  from  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt 
to  Professor  John  Stuart  Blackie,  and,  with  Mr.  Hunt's  approbation,  the  idea 
was  still  farther  carried  out  by  Mr.  Lee,  who  contributed  an  essay  on  American 
Sonnets  and  Sonneteers,  with  specimens  culled  from  the  writings  of  over  sixty 
American  poets.  The  critical  and  historical  portion  of  this  work  occupies  131 
pages,  and  is  worth  careful  study,  — particularly  by  those  writers  who,  ignorant 
or  forgetful  of  the  peculiar  construction  of  that  species  of  poemlet,  think  that 
lourteen  lines,  rhymed  'any  how,' constitute  a  Sonnet.  Ill  health  and  other 
causes  have  delayed  the  publication  of  'The  Book  of  the  Sonnet'  until  now." 
—  Dr.  Mackenzie  in  "  TAe  Press." 

"  The  whole  subject  of  the  Sonnet  is  here  treated  in  a  very  masterly  manner, 
by  a  man  who  understood  it  thoroughly,  and  whose  taste  in  poetry  was  exquisite. 
This  is  preceded  by  an  Introductory  Letter,  written  by  Mr.  Hunt  to  Mr.  Lee, 
which  will  be  read  with  as  much  pleasure  because  of  its  generous  and  genial 
tone  as  the  Essay  because  of  the  affluence  of  learning  it  shows,  and  its  usually 
Bound  criticism.  Mr.  Lee  contributes  a  most  readable  paper  on  American  Son- 
nets and  Sonneteers,  extending  to  thirty-six  pages,  and  containing  much  curioiu 
information,  and  not  a  little  judicious  remark."  —  Boston  Traveller. 

JTailed  to  any  address,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  tbn 
Publishers, 

BOBEETS  BROTHEBS,  Boston 


T 


HOUGHTS 


A 


BOUT 


A 


RT. 


By  PHILIP  GILBERT  HAMERTON, 

Author  of  "A  Painter^t  Camp." 

Second  American  Edition.    Revised  by  the  Author. 

One  Vol.     i6mo.     Price  $2.00. 


CONTENTS. 


I .  That  Certain  Artists  should  write 

on  Art. 
a.  Painting  from  Nature. 

3.  Painting  from  Memoranda. 

4.  The  Place  of  Landscape  Painting 

amongst  the  Fine  Arts. 

5.  The    Relation    betiveen   Photog- 

raphy and  Painting. 

6.  Wood  Painting  and  Color  Paint- 

ing. 

7.  Transcendentalism  in  Painting. 

8.  The  Law  of  Progress  in  Art. 

9.  Analysis  and  Synthesis  in  Paint- 

ing. 


10.  The  Reaction  from  Pre-Raphael- 
itism. 

u.  The  Painter  in  His  Relation  to 

Society, 
13.  Picture  Buying. 

13.  The  Housing  of  National  Art 

Treasures. 

14.  Fame. 

15.  Art  Criticism. 

16.  Proudhon  as  a  Writer  on  Art. 

17.  Two  Art  Philosophers. 
iS.  Furniture. 

19.  The  Artistic  Spirit. 


Since  the  publication  of  that  charming  volume,  "A  Painter's 
Camp,"  Mr.  Hamerton  has  published  "The  Unknown  River: 
An  Etcher's  Voyage  of  Discovery,"  with  thirty-seven  illustra- 
tions, etched  from  nature,  by  the  author.  The  Unknown  River 
was 'the  Arroux,  a  tributary  of  the  Loire,  and  the  voyage  wa« 
peiformed  in  a  boat  built  by  the  author,  with  his  dog  Tom  for 
his  only  companion ;  and  the  illustrations  were  etched  from  na- 
ture on  the  way.  Nothing  can  be  more  delightful  than  this 
volume;  it  is  a  marvel  of  artistic  interest. 

"Thoughts  about  Art"  will  be  mailed,  postpaid,  to  any  ad- 
dress, on  receipt  of  the  advertised  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-50m-4,'61(B8994s4)444 


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